


Vigdís

by Lavian



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Dawnguard DLC, Eventual Romance, F/F, Fantasy, Female Protagonist, Femslash, Jorrvaskr, Skyrim Civil War, Thalmor, Violence, Whiterun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-03-29 16:44:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 36,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13931133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavian/pseuds/Lavian
Summary: With her home and all traces of her quiet life reduced to ash, by the Thalmor's unyielding crusade to stamp out all vestiges of Talos worship.Fritha Vigdís is forced to flee Cyrodill.A promise to her father leads her to the harsh lands of Skyrim, her birthplace, and into the waiting arms of destiny.





	1. Chapter 1

_'The most experience with dragons?'_

_'Was the Jarl serious?'_

One of Whiterun’s outlying watchtowers had fallen to a dragon attack not more than a few hours ago. The scout that delivered the news seemed to be in shock, his wild eyes wide and unfocused as he made his report. He had the look of a deer about to bolt at the sound of some unseen predator.

Sure she had been at Helgen during the attack, but the majority of her time there was spent running from cover to cover trying not to get swallowed by the inferno. How in Oblivion did that qualify her to help in any way against another one of the beasts?

She sighed as she made her way through the Wind district, the Dying Gildergreen to her right and the steps leading up to Jorrvaskr on her left, her thoughts drifting to her brief meeting with the Companions.

Farkas was the man’s name wasn’t it?

A handsome man with a warm, genuine smile and a gentle yet deep husky voice. Clad in a full set of heavy armor and wielding a massive two handed sword, yet he moved as if they weighed next to nothing. She felt instantly comfortable and at ease around him, which was rare for someone she had just met.

There was also the girl, Ria, who seemed a bit wet behind the ears, possibly a new recruit. Timid and shy, she didn’t seem the type to be associated with the Companions.

Then there was Aela, the woman in the old Nord armor. Copper colored hair, eyes a beautiful shade of bluish gray. Full sunkissed lips and chiseled features endowed her with a strong yet undeniably feminine beauty, the war paint she wore doing little to conceal this fact. She was also a proud woman from what Fritha could tell, yet didn’t suffer from the ego that often came with it.

“Frítha!”, a familiar voice pulling her out of her musings as she descended the steps into the market district. It was Carlotta Valentia a food merchant and young mother that she'd recently helped in dealing with the advances of a certain overly amorous bard.

”Good day to you”, she smiled in greeting as Fritha made her way over to the stall.

”Morning Carlotta”, she nodded, picking an apple from the basket at her side and handing a few coppers to the woman.

”Are you headed outside the city again?”, the merchant asked.

”I am actually, yes”

”Seems the Jarl doesn’t have enough servants to do his bidding” , Frítha added offhandedly.

”Don’t let the guards hear you saying that”, Carlotta whispered, leaning closer, and eyeing a dark elf and her retinue of guards as they passed by, a sneaky grin tugging at the corners of her lips.

The dark elf catching Frítha's eye as she passed.

”And that would be my cue”, Frítha replied with a wink and a wave, taking a bite of the apple.

”Wait!”, Carlotta called as she turned to leave. The merchant rummaging behind her stall before finally retrieving an old leather cloak.

”Here take this with you”, she offered.

Frítha cocked her head giving the woman a questioning look.

”I’ve been in Whiterun long enough to know when we’re going to have a bout of horrible weather”, she explained, glancing up at the dark clouds creeping across the horizon .

”I’ll be fine Carlotta, we aren’t headed very far, from what I’ve been told”, Frítha assured her, palms raised, politely declining the offer.

”Take it”, Carlotta insisted, her stern expression, playfully exaggerated.

”I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a storm soon, and you never know where you’ll be able to find cover on the road”, in a tone Frítha had seen her use many times with her daughter, causing her to sigh in defeat.

”Alright…alright, I’ll take it...thanks”, she mumbled, frowning at Carlotta’s smile of victory.

”Be careful out there”, the woman called, receiving a backhanded wave and grunt in reply as Frítha made her way to the city gates, taking a few bites of the apple, the cloak slung over her shoulder.

Ireleth, the Jarl’s,  _’bodyguard?’_ , she wasn’t sure exactly what station this dark elf held. It didn’t matter. This woman was basically the Jarl’s right hand from what she gathered.

A stern woman, her time spent among the Nords of Skyrim perhaps giving her the aggressive attitude and the scowl she seemed to constantly have plastered on her face. Or perhaps it was over compensation to fit into the mold of the stereotypical Nord barbarian. An attempt to be accepted among the Nords maybe?

Frítha didn’t particularly dislike the woman, her attitude just rubbed her the wrong way. An overzealous actor on stage, trying too hard to play a part they didn’t fully grasp.

Absently taking a bite of the apple, her boots knocking on the cobblestone walkway with a dull thud. She made her way over to the elf, who stood at the head of a large gathering of guardsmen and guardswomen, updating them on the situation.

 

Frítha leaned on the nearby post of the’ Warmaiden’, arms folded, keeping her distance while she watched the elf try to rally the less than eager guards.

This was a dragon after all.

If they did indeed meet this creature, there would undoubtedly be death.

There was a very real possibility that she too would not make it back. Her thoughts drifting back to Helgen, the overwhelming force of destruction, raging flames all around her and the dust thick in the air. She could still feel the heat smothering her, still hear the screams and shouting being drowned out by the thundering explosions, interspersed with the deafening roar of the beast as it tore through the sky.

She sighed, the sense of dread she’d been fighting ever since the Jarl ordered her to accompany the group, growing stronger by the minute.

Ireleth’s speech was over and the group marched out the gates, the woman catching Frítha’s eye before heading through the gates herself.

Frítha sighed deeply and pushed off the post, making for the gates. In a way it reminded her of the walk to the headsman’s block back at Helgen. This time however. she was free to walk away, she was free to ignore the Jarl’s order. Free to ignore the possible death sentence, but where would she go?

She wasn’t very familiar with this region of Skyrim. And staying here probably wouldn’t be an option if she ignored an order from the Jarl. How far was it to the next city or town? How would she get there?

With next to no belongings and a coin purse that was getting lighter faster than she could refill it. Somehow, trudging aimlessly through the harsh land that was Skyrim, under-geared and alone just didn’t seem like a viable option.

She needed stability, a familiar place that she could return to if she ever got in over her head out there. Whiterun was her best option, she needed to establish herself here, find a source of income, earn the coin to replace her clothes and gear. Until then, her personal goals would have to wait. Staying at the Inn the past two weeks, among her other expenses, was not helping her financial situation in the least.

So much had happened lately, so many brushes with death.

She had been travelling on her own ever since she left Cyrodill, a fair share of close calls even before she made it to Skyrim. Then the whole incident at the border, being tortured with the prospect of a gruesome certain death, fighting to stay alive, and then being thrown into this land, her homeland, which she barely knew.

Naked and lost, nothing and no one to lean on. It was starting to take its toll. How did she even make it this far?

She felt...helpless, she was drowning, kicking and flailing wildly just to keep her head above the surface, while events kept conspiring to pull her further out to sea. There was nothing to hold on to, and no one in sight to help her.

A familiar dull ache in her chest, her breath catching in her throat causing her to shake her head clear, burying those thoughts before they could overwhelm her.

 _'Thinking like that won’t get you anywhere. Stay focused, stay alive_.'

_'This is the last favour I’m doing for that man, I just need to get through this in one piece.'_

_'Hopefully this will earn me enough goodwill with the Jarl...'_

The cold sharp bite of a raindrop on her cheek breaking through her thoughts. The creeping clouds, an angry grey, had claimed most of the sky over Whiterun.

Frítha threw on her cloak, and with a deep breath, headed through the gates.

 

* * *

 

The deafening roar piercing the heavens as the dragon tore through the grey, stormy skies.The booming crack of thunder almost indistinguishable from the cries of the beast.The cold mountain winds biting into her skin, as the heavy rain bombarded the land, creating a constant dull thrumming in her ears that complimented the sinister symphony playing overhead.

 _Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen_ …

Frítha released the arrow she’d held drawn, cursing as it missed the sizable target by an embarrassing margin.

She could hear the sounds of screaming and the bark of commands as the guards tried to coordinate their efforts to bring down the beast. It wasn’t working, their numbers were slowly but steadily dwindling.

 _Twentythree, twentyfour, twentyfive_...

Frítha shook her head, the rain clouding her vision. The stone ramp to the crumbling watchtower slippery with the downpour, causing her to briefly lose her footing for the third time. Cursing again as she landed on her hands and knees, deciding to stay on one knee as she knocked another arrow.

The dragon had descended, it’s massive jaws snapping at those brave or reckless enough to engage it in close range combat, it’s tail sending one poor soul flying as they tried to flank the beast. She released her arrow and watched as it tore through the rain skimming past the dragon’s head.

She scowled in frustration, wanting nothing more thanto break the useless weapon.

A flash of electricity lit up the rain and hit the beast in the head, causing it to release its latest victim from its jaws. It wasn’t another lightning strike, it was a spell. The dark elf stood on a platform off to the side of the watchtower not far from Frítha, blue sparks crackling in one hand, a sword in the other.

_Fortyfive, fortysix, fortyseven…_

The creature dug its legs and clawed wings into the ground, lowered its head, and the jaws of the dragon snapped open releasing a torrent of liquid fire onto a hapless guard, causing the others to flee in search of cover. This was the sixth time it had used the devastating, fiery attack since the battle started. The rain doused the flames quickly, but the damage had been done, his screams had stopped and the dragon clawed past the smoldering heap with uncanny speed.

It was headed for the elf.

”Come on!”, Ireleth taunted the dragon, casting another spell that seemed to coat her body in a dull shimmer of green.

Frítha recognized the spell as a form of mage armor. The dark elf held her ground, sword at the ready as the dragon closed in.

Was it supreme confidence, bravado, or just plain stupidity?, Frítha had no idea. For some reason the woman’s expression as she faced down the charging dragon, just irritated her.

Cursing under her breath, she kept her arrow trained on the dragon, briefly entertaining the thought of switching targets to the elf in her annoyance.

The dragon crashed into the wall of the platform, staggering the elf. Using its clawed wings to grab the edge of the stone wall, it raised itself to an almost upright position, snapping at the elf with the reach afforded by its long neck.

Ireleth recovered just in time to dodge the initial attack, the beasts jaws snapping shut where she stood not a second before. Swiping her sword at the beasts’ muzzle and drawing blood, she let out a battle cry as the beast recoiled its head.

Deciding to push her advantage she swung her sword again, the blade stopping mid swing as the dragon caught it in its jaws, shattering the metal.

_'The stupid elf didn’t know when to retreat.'_

Frítha swore as she discarded her bow and skidded down the watchtower ramp. 

 _'She’s going to get herself killed_.'

She watched as the dragon closed in on the unarmed elf, it’s jaws wide, only to be met by a flash of electricity causing it to recoil once again. The stubborn elf still held her ground, charging another spell as the dragon quickly recovered. 

 _'She’s going to get_ ** _me_** _killed'_ , Frítha corrected herself, unlatching her shield and breaking into a full on sprint, drawing her sword.Her boots splashing through the muddy water.

Ireleth let loose another bolt of electricity at the dragon’s face, however the beast seemed to be expecting it and endured the crackling light as it closed in with its gaping jaws. A move the elf hadn’t counted on, her eyes going wide in shock as the dragon’s maw broke through the light and almost completely enveloped her field of view. The blast of the dragon’s hot, foul breath assaulting her senses.

Ireleth’s body froze, this was it, she hadn’t expected the dragon to shrug off her attack and she was out of moves. Gritting her teeth and shutting her eyes were the only actions she had time for. Her mind completely blank in that instant, focused completely on bracing for the impending gruesome attack she was about to endure.

She heard the shrieking roar of the beast over the thundering rain, felt its breath on her face before the beast's jaws snapped shut!

Did she feel it?,

No...she felt nothing...she heard it. It was above her!.

Ireleth’s eyes shot open. The beasts’ gaping maw that once enveloped her view was gone. The dragon’s head was now a few inches above her. Held aloft by a shield under its neck. It was the Nord, Frítha, her face obscured from view by the outstretched arm that held the dragon’s head at bay.

The sprint up the slippery incline to the platform had slowed her considerably, reducing her momentum and making it difficult to hold her position. Frítha had barely managed to reach the elf in time to stop those huge jaws from snapping the woman’s head off.

”Jump off!” Frítha shouted, turning her face to the elf.

Ireleth appeared to be in shock for a brief moment before coming to her senses.Grabbing the edge of the platform, she lowered herself down before jumping the rest of the way.

The movement above her shield catching her attention after she confirmed the elf had retreated safely. The dragon was trying to adjust its head, no doubt for another attack. For just an instant she locked eyes with the dragon over the edge of her shield. She felt no malice towards the beast, no hatred. She wasn’t out for blood, she didn’t even want to be there. Her breath sharp and quick, her senses felt like they were stretched to their limits.

 _‘Stay alive, survive this_ …’ were the only thoughts going through her mind as she fought the almost overwhelming urge to turn and flee.

She couldn’t run and she knew it, turning her back on the beast would surely spell her death. Every muscle tense and her body shaking ever so slightly, from the cold or from her fear, she couldn’t be sure.

It was a feeling she had become very familiar with these past few months, ever since she started this journey. Her eyes stung, the taste of tears mixed with the cold rain.

’ _Help..’_ ,

Why did she have to do this. She felt her determination draining from her body as she stared into the slitted eyes of the dragon. Her heart racing in her chest and the strength draining form her shield arm.

Lowering her head and gritting her teeth in frustration, Frítha hated this feeling. She wasn’t a coward, but why did her valour have to be constantly tested like this these past few months?

’ _A dragon!, by Oblivion she was facing a damned beast of legend’._

Her frustration at her perceived weakness finally reaching a breaking point, she screamed. Her voice resounding in her chest, dulling her fear, her roar drowning out the rain.

With renewed strength, she pushed forward exposing the underside of the dragon’s neck. Frítha sunk her sword just shy of halfway into its scaly hide, prompting a mighty cry of anguish from the dragon. With one smooth movement she dislodged her sword, and swiped at the talons of the dragon that gripped the edges of the platform.

The dragon’s shrieks grew louder, thrashing about wildly and knocking her off balance. Spreading its wings, the dragon took to the sky once more. The forceful winds from the dragon’s ascent finally throwing her off her feet, causing her to tumble down the slippery incline and into the muddy water below.

Frítha lay on her back, looking skyward. The raindrops clouded her vision.

An ocean of dark grey punctuated by a flash of lightning that struck the top of the watchtower, sending chunks of stone crashing to the ground far below.

”Frítha, over here!”, Ireleth’s voice snapping her out of her daze.

She picked herself up and scrambled behind the platform to the elf, their backs to the wall.

”I thought it was over for a moment”, the elf began,

“The dumb beast could have easily had me if it used that breath of fire, instead of snapping at me like a rabid dog”.

Not even a thank you and still cocky as ever. Frítha decided she definitely hated this woman.

”It didn’t use its fire because it couldn’t, it takes just over forty seconds to recover between attacks”, Frítha explained peering past the wall at her side to see the dragon, busy with a handful of the remaining guard force.

”What?!”, the suddenness and tone of the outburst causing her to return her attention to the elf.

”You knew this and you didn’t say anything earlier?!”.

”Do you have any idea how many people we’ve lost becau..”

”Enough!”, Frítha interrupted, growing increasingly annoyed at the woman.

”If I had known, I would have mentioned it on the way”, she glared at the elf with a scowl.

”I just realised it myself not a few minutes ago!”.

”I’m not some damned expert as your Jarl seems to think, I shouldn’t even be here!, so drop the attitude and show a little humility, I just saved your gods forsaken hide!”.

The elf looked like she wanted to say something but thought better of it as Frítha gave her one last glare before turning her attention back to the battle behind them. It took a few seconds before Frítha heard the words, “thank you” from the elf at her back, almost lost in the roar of the rain. The words delivered begrudgingly but sincere enough to her ears.

”What do we do?, it angers me to admit it but this seems to be a lost battle”, Ireleth admitted.

”Agreed”, Frítha concurred, her attention still on the raging battle beyond the platform.

”We aren’t doing enough damage fast enough, at this rate it will simply outlast us till we all fall”.

The dragon’s movements looked a little slower from where she sat, sluggish and measured. The wound she had given it wasn’t very deep considering the thickness of its neck, but it was definitely draining the dragon’s strength. That coupled with a few lost talons and she had definitely given the beast something to chew on.

”We need a plan”, Frítha continued, turning again to face the elf.

”What we need are reinforce-”, Ireleth began, but was interrupted by a flash of lightning that hit the watchtower once more with a deafening crash, showering the guards below in rubble.

Something up there was attracting the lightning. Frítha had an idea.

”I have a plan”, Frítha declared, leaning closer to the elf as both women sat with their backs against the wall.

”Can you still use your lightning spells?”.

”I can”, Ireleth confirmed, genuinely curious.

”I need you to call the dragon’s attention to us after it next uses its fire breath”.

”Alright”, the elf nodded, ”I hope you know what you’re doing”.

This was their chance, the dragon had unloaded its fiery breath at the remaining guards that took cover behind the crumbling stone littering the landscape near the watchtower. Thankfully they appeared to be unharmed by the attack. Whisps of steam dancing around their stone defences.

”Now Ireleth”.

Frítha and the elf bolted from their cover and into the open field. The electricity arcing through the air and hitting the dragon in the side. The dragon turned its head to the two women and began clawing it’s way towards them in a mad rush.

”Wait for my signal and then fire a bolt at its head”, Frítha instructed, making sure Ireleth heard her.

”Very well, but what are you going to do?”, Ireleth asked.

”Just wait for my signal”, Frítha replied before bolting headlong towards the rapidly advancing dragon.

Shield at her chest in front of her, and sword trailing behind her, held tightly.

_'This was a horrible idea.'_

Frítha hoped to the divines that Ireleth had good aim.

”Now!”, she shouted, several paces in front of the dragon, still maintaining her charge, suppressing her mounting fear and quelling the voice in her head screaming that she was about to die.

The sparks hit the beast directly in the head causing it to stop in its tracks, turning its head up and away from the dazzling light.

It was just the opening Fritha needed. Her speed giving her the momentum to grab the beasts’ shoulder at the wing, and clamber onto its back.

Wasting no time, she brought her sword down and lodged it into the dragon’s back, where its neck met the shoulder. The rumbling cry of the beast reverberating up her legs, and she struggled to keep her balance.

She could feel the blade coming loose in her hand. Scrambling to her knees, trying not to get thrown off from the panicked movements of the beast, Frítha raised her shield and brought it down hard on the hilt of her sword, lodging it deeper into the dragon’s shoulder.

Another mighty cry from the beast before it suddenly leapt backwards. The sudden unexpected movement causing her to flip head over heels, landing on her back. The soft muddy earth cushioning her fall and just leaving her winded.

She managed to scramble to her feet, but only in time to bring her shield up as the dragon spun around, its tail crashing into her, sending her reeling backwards and knocking her clean off her feet. Her shield warped and fractured with the blow, sending shards of splintered wood flying everywhere. Frítha hit the ground again, the soft earth at her back as the dragon frantically retreated.

Struggling to catch her breath, the cold rain assaulting her face, she felt a searing pain in her arm.

A splinter had lodged itself in her forearm.

”Frítha!”, Ireleth called, appearing at her side and helping her sit up.

”Here let me”, she offered, gingerly taking Frítha’s injured arm.

”Do it quickly”, she instructed, biting back her tears and clenching her jaw.

Blinding pain shot through her head as the jagged wood left her flesh in one quick motion. She managed to suppress her cry to a whimper by biting into her other gloved hand.

”It’s not serious, a trip to a healer and it will be fine”, the elf declared, examining the wound, before releasing her arm.

”So, that was your plan?” , Ireleth questioned, kneeling at her side and watching the rampaging dragon dive into the few guards that were left.

”That was  _part_ of my plan”, Frítha hissed through clenched teeth, annoyed at the elf’s tone and biting back the throbbing pain in her arm as she ripped a strip of fabric from her undershirt, and wrapped the wound.

"Give me three scrolls of lightning from your pouch", Frítha demanded.

"What...what are you going to do, it takes at least some proficency in..",Ireleth began.

"I know how to use the damned things!", Frítha growled, grabbing a handful of the scrolls from the elf's pouch.

"Keep it busy until I get to the top of the watchtower”, she added, shakily standing.

The elf still sat there, looking confused.

”Go!”, Frítha shouted back across the rain, while she sprinted towards the watchtower.

Ireleth pushed herself up, watching as the Nord sprinted up the ramp to the watchtower and out of view. Who was this woman, Ireleth had to admit, she was thoroughly impressed thus far. What was she planning though?

The deafening roar to her far left shaking her out of her stupor. The dragon kicked off the ground, the whirlwind created by its wings knocking over the few guards not behind cover.

The air was thick with steam and the stench of smoke and burnt flesh. Charred corpses littered the muddy battlefield. If it weren't for the rain the entire area would have been a blazing inferno by now.

The rain continued to hammer the plains, almost drowning out the cries of her guards. "Child I hope you know what you're doing", Ireleth muttered under her breath before drawing her bow.

Frítha's legs burned as she ran up the dark, steep, spiraling staircase of the watchtower before finally reaching the top. The assault of light and freezing rain briefly disorienting her as another roar of thunder rocked the skies.

Rubble and broken stone littered the top of the watchtower. The torso of a headless statue lay on its back at the far end, large iron sword pointed to the heavens and a massive stone tower shield still in its grasp. Both were clearly ornamental and too cumbersome for practical use. At least she figured out what was attracting the lightning.

She made her way towards the statue, a sudden shockwave from above sending her tumbling forward onto the wet stone as the dragon tore through the sky just above her.

 _'Good, it can still fly'_ , she thought to herself. Scrambling to her feet, and towards the statue, kicking it's sword arm, sending the massive sword hurtling to the ground below, almost hitting a few of the remaining guard.

"Frítha!", she heard Ireleth shout from below.

"Get everyone to cover!", Frítha called, her voice sounding weak against the roaring wind and rain.

The dragon was circling around, making a beeline towards Ireleth and the retreating guards.

Frítha pulled out a scroll, chanting familiar incantations, the enchanted parchment disintegrating in her hand leaving behind a crackling ball of electricity that danced between her fingers.

Lightning slammed into the dragon just as it was about to dive the guards below, forcing it to veer away.

That definitely got its attention. She watched the beast circle around again, another spell already prepared.

The beast cut a path through the rain with unbelieveable speed towards her. It was something she didn't expect.

More than once she had seen the beasts hover above the ground to rain fire at those below. It's injuries no doubt making such aerial maneuvers nigh impossible. Frítha braced herself as the dragon plowed into the side of the watchtower, just below where she herself stood at the top, raining stone and debris in all directions.

The shockwave was enough to bring her to her knees and lose the spell in the process.

"Damnit!", this wasn't what she planned.

The stone tower shook beneath her feet, it was the dragon clawing its way towards her, up the side of the watchtower.

It was the sound of her impending death.

She searched around frantically. There was nothing, she was unarmed.

Her frantic gaze fell to the stairs leading below.

_'Go, run!'_

Frítha gritted her teeth and scowled at the voice in her head

_'Run, survive!'_

The deafening roar of the dragon as it neared the top, freezing the breath in her throat and shaking her to the core.

On her elbows and knees Frítha knelt, her forehead resting on the cold wet stone, the rain beating on her back.

_'Your pride isn't worth it, run!'_

"SHUT UP!"

"STOP SHAKING!", she shouted.

"stop shaking...", she whispered.

Another thunderous roar.

It was here.

Frítha lifted her head to see the beast claw its way unto the roof.

The dragon's talons digging into the stone as it dragged itself towards her, stopping not two feet away. It's upper body mostly on the small roof while its hind legs anchored it to the side of the watchtower, it could go no further.

For a moment they stayed like that, Frítha kneeling in front of the beast, they watched each other. Her heart raced in her chest, but her mind was clear. With another roar that almost deafened her, the beast made an attempt to snap at her, but despite its long neck, was not able to reach.

Fritha knelt back on her heels, she knew what would come next, she was however not ready to resign herself to death. She stared at the frustrated beast as it made a few more attempts to reach her, before finally realizing it was futile.

Then, as she expected, the dragon's jaws opened ever so slightly, heat and yellow light glowing behind those sharp teeth.

"No you don't!", she shouted, pushing herself to her feet, grabbing the disembodied head of the statue next to her and smashing it with all her strength into the side of the beast's head, just as it was about to open its jaws.

The blow staggering the beast causing it to lose its footing, sliding back a few feet and struggling to claw its way back toward her.

She knew that would only delay the inevitable, the dragon couldn't reach her, its only option would be its flame breath, it would definitely try again, she had precious few moments.

The stairs to her right, beckoning her at the back of her mind.

She turned to her left grabbing another boulder and bringing it down on the statue's shield arm.

It wasn't completely stone after all. The back of the shield seemed to be made of reinforced leather and wood. It still weighed a ton regardless.

The frantic growls of the dragon at her side hastening her efforts. It took all her strength but she finally managed to stand the shield up, the stone frame scraping heavily on the ground.

Finally the beast raised one winged talon after another and buried them deep into the stone roof and braced itself just as she did. Bent on one knee she held the shield standing as the torrent of fire bombarded everything around her.

Blinding light surrounded her, the dragon's roar overwhelmed her, heat and steam scorching her skin and burning her eyes while the flames robbed her of breath.

The attack seemed to last forever, smothering her senses and sapping her strength with every second.

It couldn't last much longer, her chance was coming. Frítha reached into her tunic, almost falling under the weight of the massive shield, and fished out her last scroll.

Breathlessly chanting as best she could, she was becoming light headed from the heat, while her muscles screamed from lack of oxygen and the weight of the shield.

She closed her eyes biding her time, and clinging desperately to consciousness.

The torrent of flame ended as abruptly as it began.

Frítha drew in a hungry breath, and with a massive battle cry pushed herself upright, still propping up the shield, and let loose her own torrent of electricity into the dragon's maw. Her voice rivaling that of the beast's roar as she maintained the spell as long as she could.

The deafening crackling across the heavens startling her, this was what she'd been counting on. Frítha barely had a split second to cancel her attack and duck behind the shield again before the blinding light cut through the sky, striking the sword embedded in the dragon's back, sending waves of electricity directly into the beast's body.

The dragon's shrieks sent shivers through her bones and the charged atmosphere cut through her chest, gripping her heart like the cold fingers of death.

And just like that, everything went quiet, save for the thrumming rain. Frítha sank to both knees, struggling under the stone shield and chanced a glance beyond it.

The dragon lay in a smouldering heap in front of her, its talons still embedded into the watchtower, keeping it from plummeting into the muddy ground below.

With an exhausted groan she pushed the shield aside, its weight hitting the stone floor with a dull rumble.

She knelt there on her heels in front of the dragon's corpse, her arms hung lifelessly at her side, her entire body ached.

Closing her eyes and lifting her face skyward, the icy raindrops washing away the mud and blood from her skin.

She survived...again.

She won, it was over.

She wanted to collapse right there, let the rain beat down on her battered body forever.

The sound of crackling fire in front of her catching her attention. The dragon's body was burning away rapidly. Frítha stared at the spectacle with a mix of exhaustion and indifference. Her eyelids heavy as the dragon's body seemed to burn brighter and brighter until it seemed to envelop her world in blinding light.

Images flashed in her mind, images of places, words, sounds, people, memories....knowledge.

"By the Gods!", Ireleth exclaimed, a handful of guards at her back standing at the top of the staircase.

They watched as the dragon's body dissolved in flame, tendrils of energy emanating from it and latching on to the Nord woman before being absorbed into her body in hot white light, then subsiding suddenly.

Everyone stared at the Nord woman in shock, unable to speak. She knelt there, oblivious, face to the sky, eyes closed, arms loosely at her side.

She was soaking wet, wisps of steam rising from the ground around her. If not for the steady rise and fall of her chest, one would think her a lifeless doll.

 

* * *

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

"Are you certain of this" , Jarl Balgruuf questioned the scout, at the edge of his seat, his fingers clenching the arms of his throne.

"There is no question my Jarl, the dragon lies dead atop the watchtower".

"Then Ireleth...?".

"Yes my lord, the captain is alive, but I…I am sorry to report we have lost many good soldiers in the battle".

"I see...", Jarl Balgruff contemplated, running a calloused thumb along his bearded jaw while he gazed absently into the bonfire that lit the giant hall.

"It was to be expected, facing down a beast of legend...but they gave their lives for Skyrim, for Whiterun and its people...their sacrifice will no doubt see them honoured within the halls of Sovngarde."

The words sounded hollow to his ears, but he had no doubt they were true.

Such sacrifices were necessary. It was a truth he had long come to accept whether he liked it or not.

"But what of the Greybeards, you heard the summons, what could it mean?", The Jarl’s brother, Hrongar stepped forward, the firelight playing on the large man's rugged features.

"Yes....indeed, Dovahkiin, Dragonborn", the Jarl muttered, again deep in thought.

"Dragonborn?", the scout interrupted the silence.

“Hm?”, the Jarl looked up from his musing.

"My lord if I may"

"Speak freely lad", the Jarl insisted.

"Sir, while I did not see it myself, I was told the killing blow was dealt by a Nord woman assisting the guard".

"Frítha is alive then?”,  “Good....good, I worried I had sent that lass to her death"

"My Jarl there's more…", the uncertainty clear on the guard’s face.

"Out with it then!"

"Sir, this woman, she...absorbed some kind of power from the dragon when it died, at least that’s what they are saying".

The Jarl's eyes went wide and his mouth hung open at the mention of this.

"My Lord, I...I heard some of the guards call her Dragonborn", the guard added.

"Then its true!?", the Jarl practically jumped out of his chair, grabbing the young man by the shoulder.

"Where is she lad!?"

It was at that moment that the doors of Dragonsreach opened, letting in a blast of the cold evening winds.

A lone figure shuffled in, trudging in muddy footsteps.

Gerda, the old maid servant sweeping the floors, opened her mouth in annoyance upon noticing this. Her voice however, died in her throat upon taking in the Nord woman's appearance, as she passed.

Caked in mud and blood from head to toe, her cold stare barely visible beneath the tangled mess of matted, dark hair, covering her face.

The woman ascended the stairs to the throne room with slow and measured steps, before reaching the top. The Jarl squinting to see past the bonfire, finally recognizing the stranger.

"Frítha!", he shouted in disbelief hurriedly making his way towards the woman, the others following behind.

"By the gods lass, you look-..."

The Jarl had no time to finish his greeting as the woman's fist found its mark on his jaw, sending him reeling backwards into the meaty arms of his brother Hrongar.

"How dare you!”, “Guards!", the Jarls advisor Avenicii shouted in disbelief, taking a step back himself when he noticed the woman’s eyes on him.

Hrongar himself making a move to intercept the woman even as the guards drew their blades and closed in.

"Enough!”. “Stand down!", the Jarl commanded, pushing passed his brother, restraining him and signalling the guards to back off.

Frítha kept her eyes squarely on the Jarl, even as she listened to the sound of sheathing steel all around her.

"That was the last favour I do for you, don't call on me again", Frítha hissed at the Jarl through clenched teeth.

She had wanted nothing more than to give the Jarl a piece of her mind, to shout at the top of her lungs until her throat hurt.

However that punch had exhausted all of her remaining strength. After the battle and the long trek back to the city, wounded and beaten, she barely had the strength stay on her feet.

Her body ached to its very core, and her mind was awash with images and sounds that she could barely focus on, or understand.

She opened her mouth to speak again as the Jarl approached her carefully, concern on his face.

She was at her limit.

Her vision blurred and her knees buckled.

She fell. Her decent halted by someone at her back. Her head lolling back allowing her to catch a glimpse of the dark elf before she lost consciousness.

* * *

 

 

Her eyes slowly blinked open, the world coming into focus around her. Cool winds washed over her skin invigorating her aching body.

She breathed deeply. She lay on her side, knees curled to her chest.The grass beneath, tickled her cheek.

Rolling unto her back, she was greeted with the most breath taking cerulean skies she had ever beheld. Her eyes wide at the splendor that overwhelmed her very soul.

Lifting a hand skyward, to the vast ocean, dotted with flecks of lustrous white clouds, she felt she would, at any moment, start falling into the infinite sky.

She belonged there, could almost touch it. The Cool winds danced between her fingers, her breath slow and steady, expression a mixture of unbridled wonder, longing and joy.

A child reaching for her mother’s face.

Catching herself, Frítha retracted her hand and reigned in her emotions long enough to take stock of her situation.

Her shoulders were bare. A milky white, almost ethereal fabric wrapped around her, hugging her body closely. Her long dark hair, free and untamed as she lay on the soft grass.

_‘Where am I?’_

“This place…”, Frítha carefully rose to her feet. Her legs shaky and unsure.

She stood on a small island, suspended upon the winds of this infinite sky. The only sounds, the soft whisper of the wind in her ears, the rustling of the grass beneath her feet as she walked, and the fluttering of fabric that swathed her skin.

Closer and closer to the edge until she could just peer over without the threat of falling. There was no ground below her to be seen, only a sea of clouds.

“Where the hells…”, she whispered, before a sudden blast of wind hit her forcing her to back away from the edge. Her heartbeat racing at the close call.

She heard it before she felt it, the presence behind her.

“Drem Yol Lok”, words she did not understand resonating through her chest before she realized what she stood face to face with.

Her breath catching in her throat, nothing more than a whimper escaping her lips, her eyes wide in shock as she staggered back towards the edge on uncertain legs.

Such was her fear that she did not consider the expanse of nothingness behind her. The Dragon’s tail lashed out, catching her before she stepped off the island into the clouds below, effectively creating a wall at her back. She had nowhere to run, she felt the scally hide at her back as the dragon lowered its head towards her, its words resonating through her very core.

Kiir…child, Nonvul…noble, were the only words she understood. It mattered not, she could barely think through her terror. The dragon’s head now no more than a foot away from her own.

Her knees finally gave out.

Collapsing on her heels, her back still to the beast’s tail, she lowered her head and wept into her hands.

“Krosis”,

“I forget you do not yet know our tongue”

“I am sorry child, I will not harm you”

It was really speaking, she understood it, her tears were beginning to subside, her ragged breaths beginning to calm.

“Lift your head, little one, where is that pride that you guard so well, the strength I admire”

Slowly, Frítha lifted her head and beheld the creature before her, a massive dragon with scales of golden bronze.

Unlike the dragon she remembered fighting however, this one had four limbs. Powerful legs ending in sharp talons the length of her forearm. Those talons dug into the earth before her as the creature rested on the solitary island with its long tail circling around behind her, walling her in.

Her fear was rapidly subsiding but she knew not why. She stared at the creature without malice, without fear, taking in every detail.

“There it is”, the dragon’s voice, powerful, yet calming. A talon extended towards her but she felt no fear.

_‘Was this the dragon’s doing?’_

Its razor sharp claw touched her throat under her chin, lifting her face a little higher.

“My child, strong, beautiful, fragile, you finally hear my voice”.

Withdrawing its talon and spreading its wing, effectively covering half of the visible sky overhead.

She was now truly boxed in.

Not that she even entertained the thought of escape anymore. The gesture seemed more protective than anything.

“Who are you, what do you want with me?”.

“What I want…..what I want…”, the dragon repeated, seemingly in thought.

“I wanted to see you, as you are…speak with you, as you are, here at the threshold, the beginning of your destiny”.

“Dovahkiin”.

“Dovah…”, Frítha mouthed.

“I’ve heard that word”, she muttered under her breath

“The Dragonborn, is a myth, it’s not real”

“I am not……”, Frítha searched for the words.

“I don’t want this…”

“It matters not whether you accept it or not, it is the truth, run from it if you wish but it will find you”, the dragons voice rumbled.

“I will not go picking fights with those bea…dragons…”, she corrected herself.

“There’s nothing I can do that a trained soldier can’t, they don’t need me to be some…” she searched for the words but couldn’t find it through her desperation.

The dragon regarded her for a moment, the sound of its breathing, deep and guttural.

“There is much you do not yet know little one, much about yourself, much about your destiny, do not be so quick to…”

“Then explain it to me”

“That is not for me to reveal, these questions as well as ones you have not yet the knowledge to ask will be answered in time.”

“I’m dreaming aren’t I?”, her voice once again calm, leaning her head back in defeat, A swirling vortex of light, dominating a dark sea of stars overhead.

_'When did night fall?'._

“You’re no help at all”, she sighed.

The low rumble of his voice, Fritha guessed, could only be a chuckle.

“I will tell you this”.

“The child I see before me, will not survive this journey”, Frida narrowed her eyes at him.

“It is why I wanted to meet you, however briefly”

“I have watched you grow, I have watched you suffer, I have seen you rejoice. Now, finally, my voice has touched your soul.”

“You can run for now, that is to be expected, but you will accept your destiny in the end”.

“And when you do, this child will perish, in her place a woman will rise, I have seen her in you, fleeting glimpses in your times of suffering, heard her battlecry when your valour has been tested.”

“It is this woman I will await at the end of your journey”

“Come find me, little one”

“My child,…Briimulkah”

With those words he brought his head close, nudging her cheek.

“What?”

“Wait!”

Everything went dark, and in its place, pain, thirst, exhaustion.

* * *

 

 

Fritha slowly blinked her eyes open. The morning light peeked through the windows, a little too bright for comfort.

“Damnit…”, she groaned.

Everything hurt, _where the hells was she?_

Fancy drapes hung down from the canopy over the bed, sheets of a fine fabric she could not identify covered her…

“Are you kidding me?”, Fritha peeked under the covers, she was as naked as the day she was born. Save for the bandages wrapped about her body.

She held her hand up to the light, the bandage around her arm, dotted with spots of dark blood.

She was dreaming, or rather, she had been, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't recall anything about it.

She remembered cracking the Jarl across the Jaw, yet this wasn't a jail cell. The room was exquisitely furnished with carpeted floors and decorative paintings on the ceiling.

Grabbing a handful of the sheets and wrapping them about her body, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. Intending to make for the door, but her body felt heavy, stiff, and her legs wobbled and gave out under her, sending her tumbling unto the floor in a crumpled heap and nowhere near the door.

She hit the floor with a muffled thud, cursing under her breath and brushing the tangled hair from her face when the door opened.

An old woman stuck her head in, Frítha recognised her as one of the Jarls servants.

“Oh dear child are you alright?”, she asked, covering her mouth before running up to the tangled heap on the floor.

“What happened? you shouldn’t be out of bed so soon”, she chided.

“Where the hell are my clothes, lady”, Frítha hissed at the old woman, covering her chest and trying to sit up.

“Your clothes?”

“Yes. My. Clothes…Where. Are. They?”, she growled, stressing each word.

“Oh my, we had to throw those out, they were filthy and torn, not fit to be worn, not at all”

Fritha pinched the bridge of her nose. _'Gods damnit'_

“Do you have anything I can wear”, she asked, trying to keep her voice as calm as she could.

“Yes, yes of course, shall I go get some for you?”, the old woman asked smiling politely, totally oblivious of the danger she was tempting.

“Yessss….please…”,Frida replied, a hand on her forehead.

The old woman promptly got to her feet and headed out the door, “I will let the Jarl know you are awake dear”, she called back.

“What?!”

“No!”, she shouted scrambling to the door, thinking twice before bursting into the hallway. Instead opting to close the door, and stumble back to the bed, taking a seat at the foot of it.

Fritha sighed, running a hand through her hair.

She was still within the walls of Dragonsreach, that much was clear.

Rays of light from the morning sun peaked through the windows and danced on her cheek. She lifted her hand and watched the warm light play on her dirty fingers.

Whoever cleaned her and dressed her wounds did a rather half-hearted job of it.

 _‘You survived again with everything intact, that was no small feat’_ , she smiled to herself.

She closed her eyes and let the scattered memories of the previous day play in her mind.

“Dragonborn….right…”, she scoffed.

There was a light knock at the door before it opened ever so slightly.

“Lady Frítha, may I come in?”, it was the Jarl’s voice, no question.

“No, don’t!”, she shouted, scrambling to the door, stopping it before it opened fully.

“Are you well?”, he asked, the door between them.

“I’m fine, leave me be”.

“Please I only wish to speak with you”.

“My lord, what are you doing, the young lady is in no state for visitors”,it was the old woman’s voice.

_‘About time’._

“Please wait here my Jarl, if you would”, the old woman instructed before slipping past the door.

“Here you are dear, give these a try”, the old woman smiled handing a small bundle to her and nodding to the makeshift screen by the window.

Fritha nodded and hurried behind the screen, dropping the sheets and giving the cloth top an appraising look.

“My lady we must speak”, the Jarl barged in, a hand briefly shielding his face until he was sure it was safe.

“My Lord please, you can’t be in here”, the old woman pleaded.

“It’s fine”, Fritha called from behind the screen..

“If you want to talk then talk, you have until I’m done changing”, she stated flatly, trying to pull on the pair of cloth pants.

“Gerda, leave us”, the Jarl ordered.

“I will not, this is highly…”

“Now woman!”.

The old woman held her tongue and walked out the door in a huff.

The Jarl sighed, scratching his beard, glancing at the woman’s silhouette on the screen.

“I wanted to apologize, my Lady, I should not have sent you to face that beast”.

“I thought…with your success in securing the Dragonstone and…”

“…I was desperate, you can understand, yes?.

“You seemed a capable woman, my lady, and anything I could do to increase our chances of victory…”

“Drop the lady, my name is Frítha, and as for the dragon…”, she paused.

“It’s dead now, we won, your hold is safe, Jarl”.

“I apologize for striking you, but as far as I’m concerned we’re even now”.

“Let’s just forget this ever happened”, Fritha grunted, trying to lace the stubborn trousers at her hips.

“Forget?!”

“How can you say such a thing?!”

“You are Dragonborn, my soldiers saw it with their own eyes, even the Greybeards have summoned you!”

“Who?”, was all she said

“The Greybeards, masters of the way of the voice, they live in seclusion high atop the throat of the world, and they have sensed you”

“Did you not hear them summoning you, did you not hear the mighty th’uum that shook the hold?”, he asked incredulously.

“I didn’t hear a damn thing, and by the nine, why would I even consider climbing that gods forsaken mountain!”.

“They can help you woman!”

“They can help you reveal your destiny, help you to hone your gift!”.

“With the appearance of these dragons, we are going to need every weapon we can get, and you child, are Dragonborn, you were born to exterminate these beasts!”.

“I can scarcely believe it myself, but it can’t be denied!”.

“The Greybeards can kiss my ass”, Fritha stated flatly.

“Godsdamnit…”, she growled.

The clothes seemed to be made for someone a few sizes smaller, either that or a male, because it threatened to burst at the seams in the most inconvenient places, with the slightest movement.

A few more curses under her breath as she struggled to remove the garments before grabbing the sheet from the floor and throwing it over herself.

She just needed to make it to the Bannered Mare, she should have enough coin in her room to buy some cheap clothes, hopefully.

“Find someone else to play Dragon slayer”, Fritha stalked past the man, but he grabbed her by the arm.

“Don’t be stupid child!”, the Jarls feigned civility faltering, if only a little, and Frítha had the rising urge to strike him again. She clenched her fists and glared daggers at the man.

“This is not something you can walk away from, Whiterun needs you, Skyrim needs you!”

“These are dark times. With the civil war growing, and now these drag…”

“Enough!”, Fritha yelled, wrenching her arm from his grip.

“I am done!”

“I am walking out of here, unless you want to place me under arrest, and let me just say you’d be in for one hell of a fight if you decide to go down that route”, Frítha seethed.

“Stay away from me!”, and with that she turned and stalked out of the room.

“Are you alright my lady?” one of the guards asked as she entered the main hall, the sheet bundled around her and dragging on the ground just past her heels.

“I’m fine“ she muttered, increasing her pace, trying to ignore the stares she got.

Truth be told, a strong wind could have probably knocked her over right now, she hadn’t realized it before, but she felt weak, especially now that her anger was beginning to subside. Her body ached, and she was almost unbearably hungry, but it was nothing she wasn’t used to by now.

Nudging open the large doors of the hall with her shoulder, she finally tasted the cold morning air, mixed with the soft warmth of the rising sun as it peaked through the rafters of the bridge.

The wood was cold under her bare feet. No matter, it was bearable.

_‘I must look like quite the vagrant’_

_'Aren't you?'_

Her hair dirty and unkempt as it tumbled over her face, which she could imagine was still a little muddy from the battle.

She kept walking, not paying attention to the world around her, the cold wind on her face, the cold stone under her feet, her mind was blank as she walked, eyes on the ground.

Still it surprised her when she walked into someone from behind.

“Watch it!”, the voice snapping her out of her daze.

“Sorry”, she muttered, keeping her head low and moving past them.

“Fritha?”

The sound of her name on familiar lips stopping her, she turned to face the one she’d bumped into.

“You’re…Aela?”, she asked, squinting against the harsh morning sun.

Aela stared at the woman in shock, she almost didn’t recognize her.

Her feet bare, her face marred by dirt, her hair tangled and filthy.

She smelled of mud and ash and….blood. The scent lingered on her, even huddled behind the bedcovers around her shoulders she could smell it.

“Fritha, what happened girl?”, Aela approached her, concern and shock plain on her face.

“Are you alright?” she asked placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, looking beyond the tangled mess of hair into those beautiful amber eyes, their light dimmed with exhaustion and...

Fritha stared at the older woman through unfocused heavy lidded eyes. Genuine concern and sympathy, when had she last seen someone look at her like that?

She couldn’t help it, she didn’t know why, but she felt her stony mask break, felt the sudden sting of tears as she buried her face in her covered hands.

Aela pulled her in and embraced her, not knowing what else to do and cursing herself for it.

“Sorry”, Frítha apologised, gently breaking Aela’s embrace, wiping her eyes with her covered hands.

“Didn’t mean to..to…”, she was clearly, embarrassed.

Aela searched her eyes, even as Frítha avoided hers, her concern still evident.

“What happened? they said you were staying at Dragonsreach”, Aela looked to the looming structure at the top of the stone staircase.

“I heard about….about the dragon at the watchtower”

“I’ve been hearing a lot about you these past few weeks…are you alright?”

“I’m Fine”, Frítha replied, managing a weak smile before turning to leave, but Aela’s hands on her shoulders kept her in place.

“You don’t look fine”

“I said I’m alright!”,she batted Aela’s hand away. Her outburst surprised herself more than Aela.

“I’m sorry …Aela, I didn’t mean…sorry, I need to go”, Fritha hung her head in apology, before once more turning to leave.

“Wait!”, Aela called grabbing her forearm over the sheet and eliciting a pained whimper from the woman.

“You’re injured?”

“It's nothing”, she replied, cradling her arm, and for the third time she turned to leave, but Aela stepped in front of her, cutting her off.

"Wait!"

“Come with me”, Aela offered her hand and a warm smile. "Please".

“Where…?”, Frítha took her hand almost unconsciously.

“Jorrvaskr, you need a bath and something to eat, I will tend to that arm as well”.

Frítha shook her head, about to protest and tried to retrieve her hand but Aela held firm.

“I will not take no for an answer girl, you’re coming with me if I have to carry you kicking and screaming”, she insisted firmly.

“Better yet, I’ll have Farkas do it”, she reconsidered, her gaze shifting over Frítha's shoulder.

“Do what now?”, came a man’s voice behind her, and Frítha turned her head to see another familiar face.

“Hey I know you. What was it, Frítha right?”

Frítha nodded.

“Hello again”, was all she could utter.

“What happened to you, you look like sh…”

“Farkas…”, Aela inturrupted

“What?”, he asked, clueless

“Frítha’s coming with us”

“Really?”

“Glad to hear it, I think you’ll fit right in”, he smiled, turning towards the steps of Jorrvaskr.

“I got the venison but it cost more than you said, don’t look that fresh either”, he called back to Aela walking up the steps.

Aela sighed, she would have to go hunting again, their stores of meat were starting to dwindle and she could barely stomach the garbage they tried to sell in the market quarter.

Frítha jumped when Aela put a hand around her waist and nudged her towards the stairs.

“Come girl”.

* * *

 

  

Frítha stretched in the round, wooden tub, a groan of contentment escaping her lips. The warm water felt amazing.

“Frítha, I’m coming in”, Aela called from behind the door before entering.

She sat up as the older woman entered, covering her chest.

“How are you feeling”, Aela asked walking over to her and kneeling next to the tub.

“Much better thanks”, she replied, sinking a little bit deeper into the bath.

“We’ll have to do something about this”, Aela informed her,gathering a few stray locks of her hair, her fingers brushing on Frida’s face, causing her skin to flush in embarrassment.

Her hair was singed in a few places.

Fritha tried her best not to look the woman in her eyes, instead opting to count the bubbles in her bathwater.

“Let’s see that arm”,Aela insisted.

“What?”.

“The wound on your arm, let me see it”.

Fritha thought a moment, then presented her left arm after making some adjustments.

She felt uncomfortably exposed, vulnerable. She clenched her jaw, not trusting her voice.

“A nasty injury”, Aela inspected the wound, cupping a handful of water and pouring it over her arm.

“Does it hurt?”, she asked, and Frítha shook her head _‘No’_ in response.

She couldn’t help but smirk at the shade of red on the younger womans face.

Her gaze lingering briefly on her chest and the losing battle Frítha’s other arm was fighting to contain it.

She knew she was making the young Nord uncomfortable.

Releasing Frítha’s captive arm, she stood. “Stay in the water a while longer, the tincture I put in it should help with the cuts and bruises”

“I'll tend to that arm when you're done”.

Fritha nodded, still averting her eyes from the older woman.

“I’ve left some clothes for you on my bed and there’s food on the table”, Aela added, and turned to leave.

“A…Aela?”, Fritha called, finally looking at her.

“Hm?”

“Thank you…”

Aela smiled and nodded before grabbing the discarded sheet form the floor and leaving the room.

* * *

 

Aela leaned on the door for a moment. The girl looked so vulnerable ever since she bumped into her on the steps of Jorrvaskr.

She remembered their first meeting outside the city. The way she moved, the way she fought, every move calculated, powerful, steady and sure. The strength and warmth in her voice.

The girl seemed lost now, unsure. The stories she’d heard from Kodlak and the whispers of the city guards these past few weeks, if they were to be believed, meant Frítha had been through so much in this short time.

A battle with a dragon even. This talk of her being a Dragonborn.

The tales among the guard told of how a Nord woman drew the beast into single combat atop the western watchtower and slew the beast herself, absorbing its soul.

She’d definitely believe that of the woman she’d met on the outlying farms of Whiterun, all those weeks ago.

Maybe not the part about absorbing the dragon’s soul.

The woman in the room behind her however…

To be sure, Aela had lost no respect for her, after all, she’d gotten a taste of what the girl was capable of first hand.

Seeing her now, in this state, she felt an overwhelming desire to protect the girl.

No doubt the Jarl had tried to use these rumors of her being Dragonborn for his own ends.

Still, why would he let her leave Dragonsreach in that condition?

Her anger rose at the thought of the Jarl using Frítha like that, these past few weeks, and then throwing her out.

Of course she wasn’t sure if that was what had happened, she’d been avoiding questioning the girl about it since their meeting.

Maybe she could get her answers from the Jarl himself and give him a piece of her mind while she was at it.

Aela hurried up the stairs to the mead hall. Frítha would be fine until she got back from Dragonsreach.

A brawl had broken out between two of the newer members, the hall was filled with cheering and laughter as the two went at it. Aela scoffed as she skirted the crowd and made her way to the door.

“Aela”, Kodlak stood by the doors with a Nord woman adorned in steel armor, her face looked familiar. Where had she seen her before?

Aela nodded to the old man and reached for the door.

“Where are you going child?”

“Dragonsreach”, Aela stated, unable to keep the irritation from her tone, she instantly regretted it however and flashed the old man an apologetic look.

“I thought as much, I understand how you feel girl, but that will solve nothing”.

“I don’t care! , didn’t you see her?”

“She was bleeding, filthy and barely clothed, and the Jarl just kicked her out!”

“What kind of a…”

“The Jarl did not kick her out”, The Nord woman interrupted Aela.

“With respect, I was told Lady Frítha left of her own accord”, the woman added with a small nod of her head, never breaking eye contact.

Aela scowled at the stranger.

“Then he did something, or said something to make her leave, he might just as well have thrown her out!”

“Aela!” , Kodlak interrupted

Aela glared at the other woman, but held her tongue.

The woman’s stoic calm irritating her further.

“I have just spoken with the Jarl myself, it was simply a misunderstanding”, Kodlak explained.

“Hmph!, you really believe that?”, Aela growled, never once taking her eyes off the woman.

“It matters not, the Jarl holds no ill will towards the girl, and it would do no one any good to antagonize him over this any further”, Kodlak explained.

“Let it be, girl”.

He was right, she knew it. Kodlak and the Jarl had a mutual respect for each other, she wouldn’t go so far as to call it a friendship, but they were on good terms.

It wouldn’t do to jeopardize that goodwill.

Aela ground her teeth, but visibly relaxed.

“Good”, Kodlak nodded.

“Now then, this young woman is Lydia, she was sent by the Jarl and says she has business to discuss with Frítha”

“Business?”, Aela raised an eyebrow at the woman.

“What business?”

“I am to address Lady Frítha directly, will you take me to her”, Lydia stated, her voice almost drowned out by the cheering crowd behind them.

“No”, Aela stated flatly, folding her arms.

Kodlak grunted but remained silent.

Lydia looked to Kodlak and then back to Aela, unsure of how to respond.

“Then point me in her direction and I will find her myself”

“You’re not going to see her, anything you have to say, you can say to me”, Aela explained.

“I’ll be sure to give her the message when I see her”, she added with a hint of sarcasm.

The twitch in Lydia’s eye the only thing betraying her irritation. Despite that however, she kept her composure and bowed her head again at Aela, which once again only served to irritate her further.

“Very well”, Lydia began, her voice cool.

“I have been asked to inform the Lady Frítha that the Jarl has granted her the title of Thane”.

Aela’s eyes narrowed at the woman.

“Jarl Balgruf has also assigned me as her Housecarl”

“Housecarl? , You?”, Aela scoffed.

Lydia ignored her taunts and reached into the pouch at her side, fishing out a scroll that she handed to Kodlak.

“The Jarl has also granted her the deed to Breezehome, the empty house ne…”

“Like hells he has!”. Aela sputtered.

“Kodlak, you can’t seriously…”

“It’s all legitimate it seems”, Kodlak replied, scanning the scroll.

“That’s not what I…” , Aela felt her anger growing and took a deep breath.

“He’s trying to buy her favour, he even sent this one to keep an eye on her!”, Aela pointed to Lydia who remained unfazed.

“My primary duty is to protect her, once her identity as the Dragonborn spreads, it is not unreasonable to assume that she may be targeted by those wishing to use her or do her harm”.

“Besides your esteemed Jarl I take it!”, Aela spat.

“Aela that is enough!”, Kodlak commanded.

Aela brushed past Lydia to lean on a nearby post, facing the backs of the cheering crowd. She folded her arms and seethed.

Farkas noticed the commotion over the crowd and made a move towards Aela only to be waved off by a slight nod of her head.

He stood for a few seconds frowning at the unfamiliar Nord woman at the door before taking a seat and returning his attention to the brawl.

“Sir, I will be back tomorrow to see the Lady Frítha, if you will allow it”.

“She is not interested in your-”, Aela growled.

“This is is all up to the young Frítha to decide", Kodlak cut her off. "We will inform her of everything you’ve said and you may speak with her on the morrow if she decides to meet with you”.

“Thank you sir”, Lydia bowed to Kodlak, glancing briefly at Aela before exiting through the large wooden doors of the mead hall.

 

* * *

 

 

Notes : 

 

This Fic, or rather, the first two chapters are a few years old. From here on out it's all new so you may or may not notice a difference in tone or style.

For all you lore buffs, I know I've probably slaughtered the dragon language, so feel free to correct me if I've made any translation errors lol.


	3. Chapter 3

The cold air bit into her skin as she left the bath and grabbed the towel set out on a nearby chair, wrapping it about her.

The muffled sounds of drunken shouting and cheering had since died down. Replaced by the pleasant sounds of music bleeding through the thick floorboards overhead, and echoing through the empty hallways outside.

The room was modestly decorated. Weapons and trinkets hung on the walls, discarded boots and armor pushed to the corners. A small table against the wall, adorned with various scrolls and parchments next to a tray of fruit and sweetbread.

Fritha took it all in as she walked around the room. Absently running her fingers along the various  furnishings, trying to match the things she saw, with the woman she’d only briefly met outside the city, a few weeks ago.

There was hardly anything in the room that betrayed a deeper understanding of the woman that she didn’t already know.

A small dresser next to the bed and the items strewn atop it, were some of the few things in the room that hinted at a feminine presence.

She had no intention of digging any deeper. The drawers, the footlocker next to the bed, the small closet off to the side. They were off limits as far as she was concerned.

She grabbed an apple, taking a bite before making her way over to the bed. Examining the neatly folded tunic and pants. Fairly high quality fabric, as well as the leather boots lying next to them.

They looked unworn, new even. She could only guess at the cost.

A twinge of guilt as she held the tunic up to the light. She would have to work something out with Aela later to repay the debt.

* * *

 

 

The Bannered Mare was expectedly empty at this hour. Save for a few drunken fools bumping into her as they staggered out the doors. The dying fire in the centre of the tavern still providing ample warmth.

Hulda, the publican of the tavern, stood hunched behind the bar, sweeping the floors and humming a tune under her breath.

“Aela dear”, she greeted with a smile, leaning on her broom.

“Hulda”, Aela nodded to the older woman as she made her way to the bar.

“It’s a rare sight, seeing you in my tavern, and at this hour no less”.

“What can I do for you this fine morning, lass?”

“Fritha, she has a room here doesn’t she?”

“Fritha?”, “Fritha…”, the woman thought for a few moments, absently tapping her fingers on the broom handle.

“She means that sweet lil thin wut knocked ole Mikael flat’n his assss”, a lone patron called from a nearby table, an old Nord, red faced and clearly deep into his cups.

“Haha!, never seen a man go down that fast in me life!”.

“Aha!, yes, I remember. Lass caused quite the commotion, she did”, “Poor Mikael couldn’t sing for two days”, Hulda frowned.

“You should be thankin the gods for their mercy *hic*, lass did you a favor, woman!”, the drunkard interjected.

“Oh hush! And you’ve just about had enough”, “I’m cutting you off!”.

“Baaaahhh…”, the Nord man waved dismissively, before huddling over his drink once more.

Hulda shook her head in annoyance before returning her attention to Aela.

“Almost threw the girl out, but she paid for a week in advance”. “And apparently the boy was getting a little too fresh with Ms. Valentia”.

“You know, I heard Carlott…”.

“Sorry”, Aela smiled politely, cutting her off. “But could you show me her room, I’d like to collect her things”.

She had no patience for idle gossip.

“Collect her things?”, “Is she…?”

“She’s fine”, Aela held up a hand. “She’ll be staying with us for a while…”

“Really, she never mentioned anything about that”, the older woman leaned forward on her broom.

“It was somewhat sudden”, Aela said flatly, letting the silence hang in the air for a few seconds before the expectant woman realized there was no explanation forthcoming.

“…Oh, well…hold on”, Hulda leaned the broom against the bar and proceeded to sift through the rack of keys on the wall.

Aela sighed inwardly, anxiously tapping her fingers on the counter. The noisy rattling of keys, decidedly unpleasant to her ear.

“I wouldn’t normally do this…but seeing as it’s you, dear…”, Hulda held up a key ring to the firelight before isolating one and handing it to her.

“Up the stairs, last door on the right”.

“Thank you”, Aela forced a polite smile and made for the stairs.

* * *

 

 

The room was completely dark, empty. The sturdy carpeted floors muffling her steps.  The bed was neatly made and a book lay on the nightstand next to an unlit candle. She opened the untitled book and leafed through its pages. Maps and roads were laid out, details on each of the nine holds of Skyrim.

She scanned the room once more in the darkness. No personal effects of any sort. Her eyes coming to rest on the bed, and she knelt to examine beneath it.

_There you are._

The Backpack and wrapped cloth bundle she’d seen her carrying when they first met.

A few contents of the backpack spilling out onto the floor when she dragged it out.

Vials of healing elixirs, perfumes…a journal. Aela ran her fingers over the worn leather bound cover tracing the elaborate artwork and decorative runes etched into the leather.

It was no small feat to resist opening the book, but she managed to set it aside. She may not have been prepared to read the girl’s journal, but there was no harm in taking a quick look inside the bag before she put everything back in.

Among the items, a book titled Atmoran dialect and theory, another on ancient Nordic language and culture.

A smile tugging at her lips upon finding what appeared to be a rather flowery romance novel at the bottom of the stack.

A large vial, wrapped in cloth. The thick glass tube holding what appeared to be ash or powder.

_Odd._

_Enough traipsing through the girl’s privacy_ , she decided, placing everything neatly back in place. The long, tightly wrapped bundle next to the backpack, obviously contained weapons of some sort.

Footsteps in the hallway outside catching her attention before she heard her name.

“Aela dear?”, “Are you there?”, Hulda stood in the doorway, peering into the darkness.

“Yes I’m here”, Aela called over her shoulder as she finished packing.

“Gods girl, how can you see anything in here”, Hulda craned her neck, squinting in Aela’s general direction.

“Let me fetch a candle…”

“It’s all right Hulda, I have what I came for”, Aela emerged from the darkness and they both stepped into the hallway.

“Are you sure?”.

“Yes, thank you”, Aela smiled politely, returning the key and brushing passed the older woman.

“Well alright then”, “By the way…”

“Hm?”

“The lass still has a day left, if she ever needs a room for the night…”.

“I’ll let her know”, Aela nodded.

* * *

 

 

She pulled the door to Aela’s room closed and stepped out into the hallway, knocking her heels on the cobblestone floor. The boots fit her surprisingly well, as did the rest of her clothes.

Mostly.

“You’re looking better”, a familiar voice catching her attention.

“Hi…Farkas, right?”, she looked up with a smile he approached.

A gruff, gravelly “Mmm”, and a nod of assent was his response.

“How’s that arm doing?”

“Oh it’s…it’s good…doesn’t hurt anymore”, she ran a hand over her freshly bandaged arm, managing a polite smile.

“…Um…is, uh…is Aela around?”, she asked, feeling a little awkward.

“Aela?”, “I was hoping she was still here, Skjor was looking for her”.

“Skjor?”

“Ah I forget, you haven’t met everyone yet”, “Most are out on jobs at the moment”

“But no matter, you’ll meet them eventually”.

“How about I show you around in the mean time?”.

“Ah, sure, I’d like that”.

“What kind of work do the Companions do, exactly?”, she asked as they walked.

“Anything that needs doing, really”.

 “How do you get your contracts?”, “Do people just walk in or…”.

“Mostly, yeah, that’s how it works”.

“Someone walks in off the street, they have a job they need done, they sign a contract, we assign a companion, they get paid and we keep some of it to keep the place going”.

“Are you recruiting new members right now?”, she asked with nary a moment’s hesitation.

“Finally interested in joining then?”.

She nodded, “I’m thinking it would be a good way to repay Aela for the clothes and the hospitality that…”

“Stop”, Farkas halted abruptly, earning him a bemused look from her.

“What is it?”, she asked.

“You don’t owe Aela or the Companions any debt”.

“In fact, as I see it, we’re the ones that owe you. You did save Aela when we first met, and helped the Companions out more than you know in the process”.

“I don’t-…”, Fritha began.

“Besides”, Farkas interrupted, “Aela doesn’t want you to feel you owe her anything”.

“That ain’t why she brought you here, I don’t think”.

“You’re an honourable woman and a solid fighter, from what I saw”.

“The Companions would be glad to have you if you’re interested. It’s steady work, a roof over your head, food in your belly, and someone to watch your back”.

“If you’re just thinkin about joining to repay a…”.

“I get it…I get it”, she held up a hand, smiling sheepishly, “Thank you”.

“I’d still like to join, if you’ll have me”.

He nodded with a smile, “Okay then, sorry about the lecture, but it needed to be said”.

“Mmm”, she shook her head.” I appreciate the candor”.

“Back this way”, he motioned back down the hallway, the way they’d came. “I’ll take you to Kodlak, he has the final say in who we let in”.

“He’s the head of the Companions?”, she asked.

“No one leads the Companions, but Kodlak is the closest we have to one”.

* * *

 

 

_“But I still feel the call of the blood”_

Did she hear that right?

Two men sat at the far end of the room, deep in conversation when she entered after Farkas. A half lit chandelier above, casting  a soft light about the room.

The conversation immediately set aside upon noticing them.

“Ah Farkas my boy, I see you’ve brought our guest with you”.

“Fritha, this is Kodlak Whitemane and my brother Vilkas”.

“Nice to meet you both”, she bowed her head in greeting.

“Fritha…So this is the girl that helped you deal with that giant out by the farms?”, Vilkas looked her over from head to toe.

“Indeed, she’s a skilled fighter. Helped us out of a bind during that job”, Farkas explained.

“Hmph”, Vilkas looked her over once more, dismissively adding, “She doesn’t look like much”.

“Vilkas”, Kodlak interjected upon noticing the almost imperceptible narrowing of the woman’s eyes at the offence.

The younger man catching Kodlak’s eye for a moment, before frowning and settling back into his chair.

“How are you feeling lass?”, “You look a sight better than you did when you entered our doors this morning”.

Her neutral expression replaced with a polite smile as she shifted her gaze to the older man.

“I’m well thank you”, “I appreciate the hospitality”.

“Think nothing of it lass. From what I’ve heard tell, I’m glad we have a chance to repay you for your timely intervention”.

She shook her head, “I’m sure they would have been fine without my help”, she offered Farkas a polite smile before turning back to Kodlak.

“We were training a new recruit, mistakes were made, but…”, Farkas began.

“Be that as It may”, Kodlak interrupted. “You have my thanks, and Aela’s I’m sure”.

“Speaking of which, Farkas, has Aela returned”.

“No, I was looking for her myself”, Farkas explained.

“I saw her down by the Bannared Mare on my way in”, Vilkas informed them.

“The tavern?”, Farkas folded his arms and frowned. “That ain’t like her”. “She on a job?”

“I hope you don’t mind”, Kodlak turned to her. “But Aela asked me earlier, if you could stay at Jorrvaskr for the time being, and went to retrieve your personal effects”.

“She didn’t mention anything to you?”, he asked her upon noticing her surprise.

“N…no, I…”.

“Ah, my apologies lass, the girl can be somewhat impulsive at times, but she means well, I can assure you”.

“It’s…”, she cleared her throat, feeling just a bit awkward. “Its fine, but I could have done that myself”.

She shook her head, “In any case, I came to ask your permission to join the Companions. I’m not sure what the requirements are, or the procedures, but…”

“Say no more lass”, the old man waved a hand, interrupting her. ”I’ve no doubt you’ll fit right in”.

“Master, you can’t be seriously considering letting her join”, Vilkas sat up in his chair.

“I am nobody’s master, Vilkas, and last I checked we yet have empty beds in Jorrvaskr”.

Fritha folded her arms, silently watching the exchange next to Farkas.

“My apologies”, Vilkas bowed his head. “But is this really a good time to be taking in more newcomers?”

“As good a time as any, I see no reason to deny her”, Kodlak stated.

 “Can she even handle herself?”, “The last thing we need is another inexperienced whelp out in the field”.

“We barely have enough skilled fighters that are willing to train the newbloods we already have”.

“She can handle herself”, Farkas stepped forward, his gruff voice rumbling in his chest. “I will vouch for her”.

“Come now brother, you barely know this…”, Vilkas began, but was interrupted by the old man forcefully clearing his throat.

“What say you lass?”, “I have heard accounts of your actions over these past few weeks. From both the Jarl and the guard, and I’ve no reason to doubt them”, “But how would you rate your skill with the blade?”

“What accounts?”, “I’ve never even heard of this girl”, Vilkas leaned forward in his chair.

Fritha spared him the briefest of glances before returning her attention to the old man. “What have they been saying?”. She folded her arms, her expression grave.

Kodlak understood her concern.

“Put your mind at east lass. Besides the Jarl and a handful of guards, no one can pick you out of a crowd”, “Rumours will spread as rumours do, but the few among the guard who know your name and face have been ordered to keep silent”.

Fritha released the breath she’d been holding as her expression softened. The last thing she wanted was attention and the dangers it entailed.

“I’ve been gone for barely a fortnight, what happened?”, “What has she done?”, Vilkas pressed once more, his eyes darting from the old man to his brother.

Farkas looked to Kodlak, receiving a nod from the old man before looking to Fritha, who simply shrugged.

He sighed, which sounded more like a growl than anything.

“You saw the dragon bones atop the watchtower on your way back?”, he addressed his brother.

“Aye”, Vilkas folded his arms and straightened in his chair.

“The rumors of a dragon raising Helgen?”.

“Yes, yes, out with it brother”, Vilkas prompted, growing impatient.

“Fritha was one of the survivors of Helgen.”, “From what Aela told me, she’s been helping the Jarl personally these past few weeks”.

“It was her that dealt the killing blow to the dragon atop the watchtower…”

Vilkas raised an eyebrow, occasionally looking her over as he listened to his brother, but he kept silent and nodded for Farkas to continue.

“Rumours say she absorbed the dragon’s power-…”.

She could see the subtle shaking of Vilkas’ shoulders as he looked incredulously at the three of them before breaking out into full blown laughter.

“Hahaha, _the Dragonborn_ , you’re talking about the story of the _Dragonborn,_ brother!”, Vilkas slapped the table, almost knocking over the candles as he tried to contain his laughter.

His laughter subsiding upon realising no one else seemed to share his amusement. The old man’s face was the picture of seriousness.

“You heard the voice of the greybeards on your way back, did you not?”, Kodlak asked.

“Of course I heard it. The whole of Skyrim heard it”, the humor draining from his expression as the realization dawned on him.

“Dovahkiin…Dragonborn”, “They were calling her”, the old man nodded to her.

Fritha shifted uncomfortably. This whole Dragonborn business was something she wanted to put at the back of her mind. She was well familiar with the legend of the Dragonborn, not just the children’s stories, but the deeper lore behind it, and what that entailed.

Dovahkiin, the implications of that…

Already, those in power, namely the Jarl , were trying to exert some degree of influence over her. Even now, while the Dragonborn was still a rumour, while her identity was still uncertain.

The Jarl may not fully believe it, and to the guards and citizens, it was just entertaining gossip for now.

But should she heed the call of the Greybeards…

 _People would forget, given time, the rumours would die._ She would deal with this on her own terms and in her own time.

“Horseshit!”, Vilkas’ outburst as he stood, shaking her out of her thoughts. The chair screeching on the cobblestone floor.

“This girl!?”, he motioned to her. “The Dragonborn!?”, “You can’t seriously believe that”.

“Calm yourself Vilkas, It’s nothing more than a rumour at this point”, “But it is a rumour that can potentially bring unwanted attention, so I would ask that you keep this quiet”, Kodlak advised.

“Hmph, rumour indeed. These are troubled times, and the rabble will believe anything”, Vilkas scoffed.

“You, girl. What do you make of all this?”, “Do you believe yourself to be this _Dragonborn_ from the children’s stories?”

His question catching her off guard. It was the first time he’d addressed her directly.

“It…As far as I’m concerned, the faster these rumours die, the better”, she held Vilkas’ eye for a few seconds as he searched her face.

“I think that’s quite enough of this”, Kodlak stood, interrupting their staring contest.

“Vilkas, why don’t you take her out to the yard and test her sword arm?”, “Perhaps it will put your concerns to rest”

“Do you have any objections lass?”, the old man asked.

“I don’t mind”, she answered.

“Fine with me. If you didn’t suggest it, then _I_   would have”. “I’ll wait for you in the yard, girl”, he nodded to the old man and gave her one final look before brushing past his brother.

“Farkas will show you to the yard. Now if you’ll excuse me”, Kodlak nodded to her before excusing himself from the room as well.

Farkas watched his brother leave before turning to her. “Don’t take it personally, he’s like that with all the newbloods”.

She simply shrugged. “If someone were to come up to me claiming to be some mythical hero, I’d think them arrogant or deluded myself”.

“Hm”, “I see your point”. “How about you, do you believe it? These rumours?”. “You didn’t answer my brother’s question”.

“No”, she shook her head, “And I don’t think even the Jarl believes it. I’m not sure what his goal is”.

* * *

 

 

The great hall of Jorrvaskr still bustled with life when she ascended the stairs with Farkas by her side. Adventurers and mercenaries engaged in animated banter as they drank around the bonfire, or readied themselves for the day’s work.

“Fritha”, Aela’s voice catching her ear over the din of the hall. The woman made her way over to them, all but a few drunken recruits making way for her as she brushed past.

“Aela”, she offered the woman a warm smile.

“It’s good to see you up girl”, Aela touched her arm, giving it a gentle squeeze as she looked Fritha over from head to toe. A gesture she was acutely aware of and tried her best to maintain her composure.

“Fits nicely, are the clothes comfortable?”.

“Yes, they’re perfect, thank you”.

Aela gently took her wrist, examining the bandages under her sleeve and running her fingers over the gauze. “I’m sorry it took so long, I meant to get back in time to wrap this for you, but you seem to have done a good job of it”.

Fritha could feel the heat creeping into her cheeks from the woman’s touch, and could almost hear her own heartbeat as she swallowed.

“I uh…”, she cleared her throat and politely wrested her wrist back from Aela’s hands.

“I have a bit of field experience, dealing with minor injuries. I appreciate everything you’ve done, but please don’t trouble yourself over it. It should be fine in a day or two”.

“Hm, fair enough”.

She felt decidedly self-conscious under the scrutiny of the older woman.

Fritha nodded to the familiar items under Aela’s arm, which provided a thankfully convenient means to change the subject.

“Kodlak said you stopped by the Bannared Mare to gather my things, I’m sorry, you didn’t have to do that”.

“Yes, I probably should have spoken with you first, but you didn’t seem to be in any state to take a walk through the city. And I thought you may have need of your personal effects”.

She handed over the backpack and the wrapped bundle. “Careful”, she advised.

“So what do you plan to do now?”.

“Uh…”, Fritha looked to Farkas and then to Aela, the sound of scraping steel as she adjusted the bundle in her arms. “I’m supposed to meet Vilkas in the yard. After that…I’m not sure yet”.

Aela’s confusion was apparent. “Vilkas?”, “Why?”.

“I asked if I could join the Companions. Kodlak agreed but Vilkas has a few concerns it seems”.

“He wants to see what she can do, doesn’t think we should be takin’ in any more newbloods right now”. “The old man thought it would be a good idea though”, Farkas supplied helpfully.

“That stubborn idiot…”, Aela closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose in clear annoyance.

“Where is he?”, she asked Farkas through gritted teeth.

“Who?”.

“Your brother!”.

“Out in the Yard. Skjor should be with him. He was looking for you earlier”, Farkas seemed oblivious to her tone or chose to ignore it.

“Fritha, wait here a moment”, Aela instructed before she turned and headed out of Jorrvaskr’s rear doors, leaving her standing there with her belongings in her arms and a somewhat perplexed  look on her face.

“Why don’t you let me take those down for you”, Farkas offered, nodding to the bundle in her arms.

“Uh…sure, thanks”, Fritha smiled politely and handed him the items.

The crowd was beginning to thin, but there were still scattered groups about the room. Boisterous laughter and muffled chatter echoed off the walls.

She scanned the faces around the room. A few hardened adventurers, experience etched on their weathered faces. But many were not much older than she was.

She felt Farkas’ eyes on her before he spoke. “Take a seat, eat something before you head out”, “I’ll see you outside”.

“Sure”, she forced a smile and watched him descend the stairs into Jorrvaskr’s living quarters.

A few stolen glances in her direction when she stepped into the firelight and descended the steps towards the dining tables, trying not to make eye contact with anyone.

The tables were a mess. Spilled drinks, half eaten meals, slices of meat and bread that managed to escape the confines of their dishware.

She felt a pang of guilt for the poor soul responsible for the housekeeping.

A bunch of fresh grapes laid out on a platter amongst the mess, looked particularly appetizing, and she gingerly plucked one. Biting into it while she leaned on the table and absently stared into the bonfire at the center of the room.

The blinding light of the flame melting away all sight and sound, the gentle warmth suffocating her as she remembered her battle atop the watchtower only a day before.

A blazing inferno sapping her sight and strength. Stealing her breath with a mixture of freezing rain and hot steam, while thunderous roars surrounded her in an invisible cage.

She closed her eyes and blinked the memory away. The firelight was warm, the grape was sweet between her lips, and the din of the crowd was nothing more than familiar background noise.

Had it truly been almost a year since she’d left her home in Cyrodiil?

Her family’s Villa, the place she spent most of her life.

She would be there now…

Running through the vineyards. Through the grassy hills.

Camped out by the lake, beneath the old Oak tree, and nestled between its giant roots, with her books strewn about the grass. Or perhaps she would be laying her head on Brynn’s lap, listening to her friend gush on about the latest boy she’d met in town that week. She could almost feel Brynn’s fingers in her hair, the subtle tremors when she laughed. A touch of warmth and light on her eyelids as the sun peeked through the leaves overhead.

She would be there now…

_‘If things had been different...’_

_‘if things had stayed the same…’_

_‘Was her home still standing?’_ , she wondered as the bonfire crackled, kicking up glowing embers that died upon straying too far from the nurturing flame.

“Ma’am?”, a voice at her side pulling her sharply from her memories, and she turned to see a somewhat familiar face.

“Are you okay?”, a young woman around her own age, leaning uncomfortably close, a touch of concern on her face.

“I’m fine”, Fritha blinked a few times at the girl invading her personal space.

_‘Did she just call me ma’am?”_

“Hey, aren’t you the one that helped us out at the Pelagia farms a few weeks ago?”, she asked, backing up to a respectable distance.

For a moment Fritha looked mildly bemused, cocking her head to the side. “You’re Ria, right?”.

“Ha! I knew it!”, Ria beamed.”Athis!”, she called over her shoulder to a dark elf sat at the other end of the tables.

“I told you it was her!”, she beamed at the dark elf as he approached. “This is Frida, Frida this is Athis”.

“ _Fritha_ ”, Fritha corrected the girl and offered them both a polite smile. “It’s nice to meet you both”.

“Ah, Fritha, sorry sorry, I’m not that great with names”, Ria apologised.

“Mhm, likewise”. Athis nodded. “I had to listen to her prattle on about you for almost a tenday after she came back from her first job”.

“You should have seen it!”, Ria’s unapologetic excitement earning her an awkward smile from Fritha.

“That- that, _thing_ had a hand around miss Aela’s throat and Fritha just- _BAM!!!_ ,crashed into him with her shield”, Ria recounted the story with wild flourishes and wide poses as she imitated Fritha’s movements from memory.

“… _stabbed him in the knee_ …”, Fritha’s awkward smile slowly turned into one of amusement as she watched the girl’s exaggerated movements in the face of Athis’ obvious annoyance.

“… _backhanded him in the face with her shield and it just shattered_ -“

“I know!, for pity’s sake, if I have to hear this story again I’ll shove a dagger In my ear”

“Oh fine!, but you had to have been there”, Ria finished, breathing just a little harder from her exertions.

“I just distracted him”, Farkas was the one that finished the job”.

“And from what I heard, Aela only got caught because she was distracted picking up your slack”, Athis chided Ria.

“It was my first time! And I already got an earful from her after we got back. I’ve gotten a lot better with the bow!”, “Vilkas even showed me a few tricks with the blade”.

“Pah!”, Athis scoffed, and Ria growled at him in return before turning back to her.

“Anyway, where did you learn the sword, do you think you could show me a few moves?”, Ria looked at her expectantly.

“My father taught me the sword as well as-“

An errant hand groped her rear, startling her, and she immediately slapped it away and turned to face the offender.

A drunken nord, his nose red and face flushed, grinned at her from ear to ear.

“The hells Torvar?!”, Ria rushed to her side before she could say anything, and pushed him away.

“Just checking out the goods, is all”, the drunkard chuckled even as he struggled to keep his balance.

Fritha scoffed at him. He was nothing but a minor annoyance, a drunken fool, and she would gain little from escalating the situation.

“Just back off before I lay you out!”, Ria threatened, wearing her indignation on her sleeve. But Torvar simply laughed, “You? That’s rich!”.

“Go sleep it off, you’re embarrassing yourself”, Athis cut in, standing shoulder to shoulder with Ria.

They were drawing more eyes by the second and her embarrassment growing with it. “I should be going, it was nice meeting you both”, Fritha said simply before walking off towards doors, feeling multiple eyes on her.

“Ah, Fritha?”, Ria called just as the doors closed.

The bright morning sunlight was a stark contrast to the enclosed halls of Jorrvaskr. Aela was the first thing she noticed. She stood at the top of the courtyard steps with Vilkas and an older man, her face stern as she spoke with Vilkas.

Aela caught her eye and and gave her a look that said, _‘wait’_ , while she finished her conversation. Vilkas followed her gaze, giving Fritha a cursory frown over his shoulder, but turned back to Aela before she could so much as nod hello.

* * *

 

 

“Are you alright?”, “Did something happen girl?”, were Aela’s first words to her, upon finishing her chat and making her way over. A hand on her shoulder as she studied Fritha’s face.

Fritha smiled in amusement, her dark expression melting away. “Everyone keeps asking me that today, it’s becoming just a bit annoying”.

Aela returned her smile, “And I’ll keep asking, so long as you keep wearing that grim face”.

“Hey, I was born with this face. I haven’t had any complaints so far”, Fritha folded her arms and grinned cheekily back at her, causing Aela to laugh.

“Good, good, a genuine smile. There’s hope for you yet“, Aela gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“Fritha!”, the doors behind her opened with a heavy groan, and Fritha rolled her eyes before turning to face Ria.

“I’m really sorry about that, I don’t-“

“Don’t worry about it”, Fritha cut her off.

“But-“.

“Ria. Really, let it go”.

“What happened?”, Aela demanded.

“Well ma’am, we were just-“

“Nothing”, Fritha cut her off for the second time. “Some Drunkard just got a little handsy, it was no big deal”.

Aela held up a hand to silence her. Fritha could see her jaw tighten before she spoke, and could not help but sigh.

“Torvar?”, she asked Ria.

“Uh…y-yes ma’am”, Ria stammered, nervously looking between the two women.

It didn’t take long for Aela to come to a decision, and she made for the doors before Fritha grabbed her by the wrist.

“Stop”, Fritha hissed, trying her best not to make another scene. Her sudden action startling the older woman.

“Fritha, this isn’t the first time he’s done something like this. Jorrvaskr isn’t some tavern where-“.

“I will deal with him if he bothers me again. Don’t make this an issue on my account-“

“Fritha…”

“If he makes himself a nuisance to anyone else, then by all means, handle it as you see fit”.

“…Please”, she added, releasing Aela’s wrist.

There, for a brief moment, was the woman Aela remembered. Her commanding tone carrying with it a maturity and confidence that she seemed to have lost since they’d last met.

And her pride. Fritha may have lost her way due to recent events, but she still had her pride. And Aela could not help but kick herself upon realizing that she may have been taking away the girl’s agency to some degree by treating her like a child.

Aela studied the closed doors for a moment before turning back to her, the tension draining from her shoulders. “Very well, I will let it pass, just this once”.

Fritha visibly relaxed, whispering a simple thank you.

“Ria”, Aela turned to the young Companion -in - training who’d been silently watching their exchange,  and the girl visibly straightened, almost to attention.

“Ma’am?”.

“I want you to tell me if this happens again, do you hear me?”.

“Yes ma’am!”.

“Frith-“ Aela began, but the girl had wandered off towards the stairs.

“You ready to get started girl?”, Vilkas turned to her as she approached, his hands on his hips.

To which she simply nodded. She wasn’t sure what to make of the man. He wasn’t too fond of her, that much was certain.

“Good, grab a sword and let’s get started”, he motioned to the sword rack behind her, before heading down the stairs to the training area.

They were wooden swords, with blunted edges and tips, made from heavy hardwood and leatherbound hilts.

She hefted the weapon, testing its weight and balance.

“We have our newer members use these in training, to reduce the chances of serious injury”, Aela explained, coming up behind her.

“Can’t have a bunch of inexperienced newbloods flailing around a real blade at each other”, a gruff voice catching her attention. It was the older gentleman she’d seen with Aela and Vilkas earlier.

Much Older than Vilkas and Aela, he was a balding man with greying hair around his temples. He sat at the nearby table, taking a swig from his mug before slamming it on the table and approaching them to stand next to Aela.

“Fritha this is Skjor, one of the inner circle”, Aela introduced him.

 Fritha nodded, smiling politely. “Nice to meet you”.

“Aela says you know your way around the sword”, he nodded to the weapon in her hands and she handed it to him. “If that’s true”, he took a few practice swings, his movements swift and measured, and Fritha could almost feel the weight behind each swing.

“you’ll find these toys have almost the same weight as a similarly sized blade, and decently balanced”, he balanced the sword horizontally, just above the hilt with his index and middle fingers.

“Clear out!”, she heard Vilkas shout to a few Companions practicing on the training dummies. “Going to need some room here”.

She sighed, turning back to Aela and Skjor.

“Here”, Skjor handed her the sword, “Let’s see what you can do”.

“Thanks”.

Aela tapped her shoulder as she turned towards the training area. “Your hair, girl”.

Her dark hair extended just short of halfway down her back.

“Oh right”, she tucked the sword under her arm and gathered her hair.

“Fritha, here use this”, Ria squeezed past Skjor and Aela, looking sheepishly nervous from their attention.

She handed her a thin leather strap from her belt pouch.

“Ah thanks” she smiled, holding the strap between her lips as she gathered her hair in a high ponytail, while descending the steps towards the training area. The cold shade of the rest area, making way for the pleasant warmth of the morning sunlight.

Vilkas waited for her inside a relatively large sand arena, watching her as she descended. A few of the formerly training recruits eyeing her from head to toe as they passed her on the stairs.

The Cold winds providing an invigorating contrast to the warm sunlight, as it danced a few stray locks of hair across her face.

She took a deep breath, admiring the misty, snow-capped, mountain ranges visible beyond Whiterun’s high walls before she finally stopped across from Vilkas and turned to face him.

_‘Let’s get this over with’_

“Ready girl?”

She simply nodded, holding the sword in front of her in a ready stance and Vilkas followed suit.

* * *

 

 

He wasted no time in taking the first swing, which she blocked effortlessly. The _thwack_ of the wooden swords signalling the start of her audition.

Two more consecutive horizontal strikes to her left and right, again blocked seamlessly, followed up immediately by an overhead swing that she parried and sidestepped.

“Not bad”, Vilkas stated flatly, his face plain.

She raised and pointed her sword arm at Vilkas, keeping her right side facing him, as they began to circle each other with slow measured steps.

She watched his eyes as they tracked her feet.

A sudden feigned lunge from him, stomping his foot in the sand, yielded no reaction from her as she continued to circle him, unfazed.

“Hmph”, he grunted, tapping the tip of her blade with his own, testing her grip and the tension in her arm. She wasn’t nervous, wasn’t jumpy like some of the more recent and inexperienced whelps. She appeared completely relaxed, a slight crease of her brow, the only thing betraying her focus.

And her eyes…

Beyond the tips of their blades, he could see the flecks of golden green in her amber eyes, as they maintained their pinpoint focus between his own.

He inched closer, scraping his sword against the length of hers before suddenly slapping it to the side and dashing in with a swipe aimed at her now wide open midsection.

It was true he was holding back, but his movements were fast enough that it should have been a guaranteed hit.

A typical swordsman would have backstepped out of the way if they were fast enough.

But he did not anticipate her speed or her reaction. The instant her sword arm was knocked aside and the telltale signs in his stance and arms revealed that he was about to charge in with a horizontal slash, she mirrored his charge. Getting in close enough to avoid the blade and grabbing him by the elbow with her free hand while her sword arm trailed behind her.

He was open.

_‘Sternum’_

_‘Throat’_

Possible targets flashing in her mind but immediately discarded. This wasn’t a duel or a battle with anything on the line.

Instead she maintained her grip on his elbow, using his own forward momentum to spin herself around behind him, striking him solidly on his armoured back as he passed.

Gasps, murmurs of surprise and whistling amongst the excited chatter filled the courtyard.

A crowd had started growing around the edges of the arena and in the ‘rest area’ at the top of the stairs. Even a few guards had stopped their patrols to take in the spectacle.

She had been so focussed on Vilkas, that the sudden awareness of the crowd had caught her off guard.

Vilkas staggered forward, the sand kicking up around his feet, growling and grinding his teeth upon realizing what had just happened. The rise in exited chatter around them only increasing his annoyance.

_“Who is she?…”_

_“Why are they fighting?...”_

_“Isn’t that Vilkas?...”_

He faced the stairs and kept his back to her, shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath.

“Woohoo! Nice one Fritha!”, Ria called from the top of the stairs.

“I didn’t expect that. Not bad”, Skjor said, impressed. He stood next to Aela at the top of the stairs, scratching at the stubble on his cheek. “She’s had formal training, that much is clear”.

“I told you she could handle herself”, Farkas said, coming up behind them to stand at Aela’s side.

“None of this was necessary”, Aela muttered, her arms folded and her expression stern.

“ **You’re underestimating her, brother** ”, Farkas spoke softly, looking at his brother down in the arena, in the middle of the courtyard, thirty feet away.

“ **Don’t patronize me, _brother_** ”, Vilkas growled, glaring at Farkas at the top of the stairs, beyond the chattering crowd. Masking the movement of his lips by pretending to wipe his cheek with his arm. His annoyance clear in his voice.

“S **he’s not armoured Vilkas. Watch your sword strikes** ”, Aela cut in.

Vilkas threw her a dirty look, before finally turning around to face Fritha.

She stood with her feet a shoulder width apart, her sword relaxed at her side as she waited.

The barely supressed scowl on Vilkas’ face causing her to frown. She could see the entire inner Circle at the top of the stairs, except Kodlak, behind him, as well as a number of recruits around them, watching the show.

Even down here, at the edges of the arena. The few recruits and passing guards that gathered, made her feel somewhat self conscious.

She caught Aela’s eye for a brief moment, the older woman mirroring her own apprehension.

She sighed, stepping forward as Vilkas approached, to meet him in the center of the arena where they both readied their swords.

He said nothing. Instead immediately taking a lunging swing at her, closing the distance between them. His movements were faster than before, but it was a simple attack and she brought her sword up in time to block. The force of the attack surprised her however, reverberating through the wooden sword and stinging her hands.

On instinct she jumped back.

 _‘If that had made contact.’_ She thought.

_Was he trying to hurt her?_

She barely had time to finish that train of thought before he dashed forward again with another horizontal slash, and she was barely able to deflect it before it made contact with her upper arm. Immediately she followed up with her own horizontal swing aimed at his armoured side.

He blocked her strike with ease, using their closeness to backhand her in the jaw. The hit spun her around so her back faced him as she staggered for a few steps in wide eyed shock.

_‘Did he really just do that?’_

“She should have seen that coming. I’m almost certain she did”, Skjor mused. His thoughts interrupted by the sudden feeling of hostility radiating from the woman next to him. Her arms were folded, and her body shook almost imperceptibly. The subtle twitching of her lips as she tried to suppress a snarl, while glaring daggers at Vilkas, spoke volumes of the protectiveness she felt towards this girl.

Fritha wiped at her lip with the back of her hand, checking for hints of blood, but there was none. She looked at Vilkas over her shoulder in confusion. The Companion paced back and forth, spinning his sword in his hand.

“Keep your guard up, it’s not _just_ your opponent’s sword you should be looking at”, Vilkas instructed.

Fritha seethed. That he would presume to give _her,_ instruction on the sword.

_What were the rules?_

_Were there even any?_

Fritha took a deep breath and exhaled deeply, once more turning to face him.

Again he took the initiative with a sweeping attack to her legs which was easily blocked, before transitioning into an overhead swing that she chose to sidestep. This provided a perfect opportunity to counterattack with a strike to his side.

However, he deftly blocked the strike. Bringing his knee up while their swords were locked, and stomping her in the abdomen, knocking her back.

She cried out, falling to one knee, fighting back the nausea and trying to breathe. She buried her face in her arm and squeezed her eyes shut.

“Vilkas! That’s enough!” **,** she heard Aela shout, her voice coming from somewhere nearby.

“Fritha?!”.

Fritha ground her teeth and forced her eyes open, her face still buried in her arm.

_‘He kicked me!’_

_‘Was any of this even allowed?’_

Just as before, even as they had locked swords, she recognised his kick as a possible attack. But she had brushed it off, not expecting him to actually do it.

This was just supposed to be an audition to show her basic proficiency with the sword, wasn’t it?

The chatter of the crowd was starting to aggravate her.

Vilkas, was starting to aggravate her.

There was no need for him to go this far. This wasn’t worth entry into the Companions, and she highly doubted any other recruit had to do this.

“Fritha!”, she heard Aela call again.

She took a deep breath.

He had set the tone for this farce of an audition, and she was done holding back.

“Fri-“.

“ ** _I’M FINE!”,_** she snapped, before lifting her head and standing.

Vilkas had his back to her, and turned to face her as she stood.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Aela, and Skjor had descended to the edge of the arena. But her focus was on Vilkas.

“That should be enough girl. I think we’re done her-“

“We’re not done”, she cut him off. Her voice was calm and steady. But her face, as much as she tried to hide her anger, still showed hints of disgust and indignation.

She could lose just about as graciously as anyone, in a fair fight. Even appreciate the loss if she could learn something from it.

But losing a battle she didn’t know she was fighting, or limiting herself because she didn’t know the rules. She couldn’t accept that. She wouldn’t.

“Listen, your skills aren’t bad", Vilkas began. "I have no objections to you joining our-“.

“It’s not up to you, Kodlak already gave me his blessing did he not?”.

Vilkas frowned, unable to respond.

There was that tone and demeanor that made her seem older than her years. Aela watched from the sidelines in silence.

“I’m not sure what you have against me, but this farce was for your own benefit. That’s why you didn’t set any rules, but I think now I have an idea of what’s allowed, and what’s not. Or are you just going to take that cheap shot and walk away?”.

“Is that what your honor amounts to?”.

“Fritha stop”, she heard Aela say, but she didn’t take her eyes off Vilkas.

“Careful, girl. Those aren’t words to be spoken lightly”, Vilkas narrowed his eyes, his warning tone not lost on her.

She could feel the countless eyes on them and almost feel the tension in the crowd. But it didn’t matter anymore.

She raised her sword and pointed it at him, “Then prove me wrong”.

“ ** _Vilkas, if you hurt her, you and I are going to have a problem_** ”, Aela growled under her breath, so only the inner circle could hear.

“Hmph!”, Vilkas scoffed, a barely suppressed scowl on his face as he looked towards his fellow inner circle members before turning back to Fritha.

“Very well, girl. Take your shot”. No sooner had the words left his mouth, than she dashed forward, the _thwack_ of swords signalling the start of the second round.

* * *

 

 

Her attacks came hard and fast and her defences were tight. Vilkas could now see, much like himself, how much she had been holding back.

Her sword cut through the air, a hair’s breadth from his chest, missing him and exposing her back. This was the first opening he’d seen since she’d started her barrage, and he would not let it slip by.

He had already committed to his attack when he caught a glimpse of her face over her shoulder, and the hint of satisfaction that coloured her amber eyes in that split second.

Fritha dug her heel into the sand and twisted her hips, putting as much power as she could into a rising slash to meet his downward swing before his attack could gather enough momentum.

The force of the impact as their swords met, sending an ear shattering _CRACK_ across the courtyard. Her blow knocking Vilkas’ sword arm away, very nearly disarming him as he staggered back one step, completely exposed.

He could only look on in shock as her rising attack smoothly transitioned into a sweeping slash across his armoured torso. The meaty smack causing the crowd to wince and moan as she dashed out of his range.

The attack stung, even through his leathers, and even though she had expended most of her momentum to deflect his sword.

She had kept far enough out of reach of his arms, and angled herself to avoid his legs with her first feigned attack. She made herself too attractive a target to pass up, while limiting his attack options.

And she was unarmoured. If he wasn’t concerned about seriously injuring her, he may have had the speed and momentum to land his attack.

_Maybe._

_Maybe not…_

His palms ached. It was a small miracle that he’d managed to hold on to his sword. If he had been disarmed by her unexpectedly savage swing, he would have been the laughingstock of the Companions.

He had been wrong. She was no average adventurer. If he lost this, it would tarnish the name of the Companions and especially the inner circle.

Vilkas growled under his breath, rolling his shoulders as he walked towards her slowly. He had to win this.

He wasted no time, throwing caution to the wind. He was bigger than she was, and even holding back he was stronger than she was, faster than she was. It should be easy to overwhelm her.

“You could have stopped this earlier”, Skjor muttered, to Aela, who’s uneasiness was almost palpable, as she watched what had devolved from a sparring match into a duel.

“I could have, but she didn’t want that”, Aela said flatly as she kept her eyes on the fight. Watching as Vilkas kept Fritha on the defensive. He had put more power behind his attacks, and Fritha had chosen to avoid and parry most of his blows instead of outright blocking them. She was starting to tire, that much was clear.

“And now you can’t”, Skjor explained, and she turned to him.

“I’m aware of that”.

“Why not?”, Farkas came up behind her.

“Because the crowd is on her side. Skjor explained.

“Her technique was impressive before, but now it’s not in question. She’s more skilled than Vilkas and it’s plain to see. It’s true, Vilkas is fighting at a disadvantage, he has to hold back and pull his punches, but she’s landed more attacks than he has, and if we stop them now, it would bring into question the ability and honor of the inner circle".

The crack of swords interrupted their conversation as Fritha blocked an overhead swing from Vilkas. And in one smooth motion, grabbed his wrist and used his momentum to pull him forward, ramming her knee into his gut. A move that elicited a collective moan from the crowd.

“Ugh!”, he groaned in her ear as the air rushed from his lungs. But she wasn’t done. She pivoted on her heel, lowering her stance as she jammed her hip into his groin, using her leverage to flip him over and unto his back.

He hit the sand hard, coughing or growling, Fritha couldn’t tell as she picked up her sword and stepped back.

He had been pressuring her immensely, and she had all but run out of stamina, while he still seemed to be in top form. She needed the breathing room and doing this had been her instinctual answer.

But seeing his face now. The annoyance she’d felt before, paled in comparison to the rage in his eyes.

_‘Shit’._

She swallowed, her apprehension growing by the second, even as she tried her best to keep the concern from her face.

 **“Vilkas…”** , Aela whispered in a placating tone, putting one foot into the arena before Farkas placed a hand on her shoulder.

 **“Calm down brother”** , Farkas advised, his eyes on his brother’s back.

“We have to stop this, Farkas”, Aela clenched her fists.

“Not yet…”, Skjor cut in.

Vilkas slowly rose to his feet, digging his sword from the sand as he stood. The sand pouring from between his fingers as he lifted it free.

She could feel the quiet rage radiating from him. This was not like before, and she took a step back as he approached.

His steps were measured, but grew quicker as he neared her and unleashed a one handed swing that broke her two handed grip on her sword. She barely managed to hold on to the weapon with her left hand, the force of the impact leaving her wide open to a backhand to the face that sent her stumbling away with her back facing him. Using the force of the blow, she spun around with a blind swing that halted his further advance.

Fritha shook the cobwebs from her head while holding out her sword towards him to maintain their distance. She licked her lips, the copper taste reigniting her anger. She scowled at him. And on pure instinct, throwing caution and strategy to the wind, she immediately charged forward with a wild swing towards his shoulder. Vilkas ducked under the blow with surprising speed, countering with a swipe towards her legs as he arose, but his attack was halted when she brought her leg up, blocking his sword with the underside of her boot, stomping the weapon into the dirt and out of his hand. It wasn’t over, as her foot clamped down on his sword and he arose, she immediately slashed at his face.

Vilkas managed to dodge the attack with uncanny speed, but not by much. He felt the wind from the slash on his cheek as he staggered back and Fritha used the opening to charge forward, bringing her sword up for an overhead slash. A flash of shock on her face when he caught her sword mid swing with a single hand. She growled in frustration, relinquishing one hand from the hilt and throwing her fist at his face.

Just like before, he caught her attack. Her fist enveloped in his palm. He squeezed her hand, pulling her close, spinning her around and twisting her arm behind her back. She screamed, crying out in pain as he locked his arm around her neck in an attempt to subdue her.

Her sudden cry, the smell of blood and the wetness under his hand causing him to release his hold on her, and she immediately fell to her knees and collapsed on the sand. Her face buried in one arm while her other arm bled at the wrist, blotting her sleeve in crimson.

“Get away from her!”, Aela shoved him aside, almost knocking him over.

“Fritha!”, she knelt over the girl.

“I…I barely touched her”, Vilkas stammered, looking at his bloody palm, confused.

Aela ignored him, gingerly taking hold of the girl’s wrist to examine it.

She could hear Fritha’s ragged breaths, see the anguish on her face as she fought the pain.

“It’s alright girl, it’s not bad. Can you sit up?”.

“M…hmph”, Fritha managed, pushing herself up with her good hand to sit on her heels. Farkas appearing at her side to hand Aela a strip of cloth before walking over to his brother.

“I…I don’t know what happened, brother…I…”, Vilkas muttered, a mixture of guilt, shock and concern on his face.

“Wasn’t your fault”, Farkas shook his head, stopping at his brother’s side.

“She was already injured, I think you just reopened the wound”, his arms folded as they watched Aela tend to the girl.

Fritha hissed, jerking her arm protectively close to her body as Aela wrapped it.

“I’m sorry”, Aela apologised, retrieving her wrist, gingerly wrapping the cloth around it.

She should never have allowed this to happen. It was only a few hours ago that the girl had looked ready to fall over from exhaustion and hunger. Covered in cuts and bruises and dirt.

Fritha stared absently at the sand beneath her legs while Aela wrapped her wrist, her breathing still unsteady from the pain. Aela moved to brush the wetness from her cheek but Fritha turned her head away, brushing the tears away herself, not looking at the older woman.

She looked almost ashamed, her eyes briefly darting to the edges of the arena. Thankfully Skjor had dispersed most of the onlookers.

“Come”, Aela finished. “Let’s get you out of here”, she snaked an arm around Fritha’s waist and helped her to her feet.

“Do you need hel-“, Farkas began.

“I have her. Why don’t you help Skjor remove these damned gawkers”, Aela growled, leading her up the stairs.

* * *

 

 

“You haven’t said anything in a while”.

They were back in Aela’s room. Fritha sat at the edge of the bed, and Aela on a small chair directly in front of her, the older woman’s knee brushing against her inner thigh as she finished tending to the wound.

“That was humiliating…”, Fritha muttered, her head lowered, still refusing to make eye contact with Aela.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of. You fought well, girl, none can question that”.

“You hear me?”, Aela tilted her head to look Fritha In the eye when she didn’t respond.

“Mmm…”, Fritha nodded and forced a smile.

“Good. And that was not a fair fight, for either of you. It should not have gone that far, shouldn’t have happened at all”.

“There, that should do. Does it hurt?”, Aela ran her hands gently over the bandage, checking her work and smoothing out the fabric.

“Just a little…thank you”, Fritha tested the bindings.

“Here”, Aela placed her hand in Fritha’s. “Squeeze, hard as you can manage”, she instructed, testing her grip.

“I feel I need to apologise”, Fritha continued,” I didn’t mean to be a burden t-“

“Nonsense, girl, stop talking like that”, Aela caught her eye, and Fritha nodded once more, her smile a little less forced than before.

“Still, thank you”.

“If you want to thank me, then don’t do anything that could get you hurt, at least for a few days”, Aela instructed, brushing a lock of hair from the girl’s cheek.

“Fair enough”, Fritha blushed.

“Aela…?”

“Yes?”

“You’re hurting me”, she winced through her smile, and Aela realized she had been lightly squeezing the girl’s wrist.

“Oh, sorry girl!”, Aela quickly released her.

A knock at the door saving them from the awkward silence.

“It’s open” Aela called, and Farkas poked his head in.

“How’s she doing?” , “Do you need anything?”.

“She’ll be fine”, Aela assured him, “I have everything in hand”.

“You could punch your brother in the jaw for me”, Fritha muttered under her breath, licking the small cut on her lip.

“Will do”, Farkas replied, much to Fritha’s surprise, before disappearing behind the door.

“Wh…?”, Fritha opened her mouth, but Farkas had already gone and she looked to Aela in mild dismay.

“It was a jest, girl, don’t concern yourself”, Aela grinned.

“Come”, Aela pushed her chair aside and knelt in front on Fritha, unbuckling the girl’s boots.

“What are you…?”

“You should have been resting all this time”, Aela looked up at her. “Not brawling in the courtyard”.

“You don-“, Fritha started to object.

“Do not argue with me on this, girl. You said earlier, you wanted to thank me, did you not?”, Aela interrupted.

“Yes but-“

“Then rest”, Aela placed the boots at the bedside and knelt between Fritha’s knees.

“Recover your strength”, she reached for the laces at the front of Fritha’s tunic, tugging at the strings.

“What are you doing?!”, Fritha gasped, leaning away, protectively clutching at her chest.

Her sudden reaction momentarily throwing Aela for a loop as she blinked at the girl.

“Calm yourself. Your sleeves are stained with blood. I’ll have it cleaned and return it while you rest”.

Fritha glanced down at her sleeve, the dark stain had seeped deep into the fabric.

“I…I can do it…”, she muttered.

“Really?”, “You can barely squeeze my hand, girl”.

Fritha frowned, taking a moment to think it over before finally relenting. “F…fine”, she sat up straight, allowing Aela to unlace her tunic.

Her eyes roaming the room, she bit her lip and swallowed, trying to keep her mind distracted from the feeling of the older woman’s fingers, that worked to unlace the strings of her tunic.

The heat creeping up her face, her heavy breathing and her thundering heartbeat that she was sure even Aela could hear.

Finally she felt her shirt loosen, the cloth drooping off her shoulder to one side.

“This doesn’t fit you properly”, Aela finaly spoke, adjusting the tight bra-strap that bit into Fritha’s shoulder, while brushing her hair out of the way.

“I didn’t know your size, but I’m glad everything else fits nicely”.

Fritha swallowed again and cleared her throat. “I meant to visit the shops this morning…before all of this happened”.

“Lift your arms”, Aela instructed, and she slipped the tunic off.

“There’s a clothier in the market district, I can take you tomorrow”, Aela offered.

“No that’s fine, I have the coin, I’ll take care of it myself”, Fritha assured her, folding her arms protectively and feeling uneasy under Aela’s gaze.

“Very well”, Aela nodded, slipping the leather strap from Fritha’s hair, letting it tumble over her shoulders and down her back.

“Get some sleep girl. I’ll leave your shirt on the table when it’s done”.

Fritha sighed, upon hearing the door close.

She unlatched her bra, breathing a sigh of relief from the confines of the undersized garment.

Sparse and muffled chatter leaking through the floorboards above her. She yawned, suddenly feeling the toll of the morning’s events, and she let herself fall into the bed, pulling the warm furs around her and letting sleep claim her as soon as she shut her eyes.

* * *

 

 

It was later that evening that Fritha found herself sat in Jorrvaskr’s hall, having slept most of the day away. Shadows danced on the walls from the firelight and a troupe of entertainers practiced on their instruments, filling the hall with bouts of revelrous music.

Little by little people filtered in. Companions retuning from their jobs or whatever they got up to during the day. Taking seats at the tables, laughing and chatting.

It was hard to miss the stares she got, and more than once she would catch someone staring before they quickly turned away, chatting with their fellows. Other than a few attempts by some of the younger male recruits to catch her eye and their awkward flirtatious smiles, no one had tried to speak with her. She sighed, taking a bite of buttered bread, considering taking her meal back to Aela’s room.

Speaking of which, the woman in question stood at the far end of the hall, in a shadowed corner, dimly lit by the fire. Leaned on a pillar as she spoke with _‘Skjor was it?’_

 

The older man stood close, almost intimately so. She watched him lean in, whisper something to her, and saw the pleased smile on Aela’s lips. They appeared oblivious to everything else.

The doors creaked open, letting in the cold as a few more recruits filtered in. Ria’s familiar face among them. The girl flashed her a bright smile and waved when she saw her. It looked for a moment that she would come over, but something threw her off and soon she was distracted by her fellow Companions.

“Can I sit with you?”, a man’s voice at her side.

_‘Vilkas’_

She looked up at him pensively, her brow furrowed. He held a plate of food and a mug in his hands.

“You can sit anywhere you want”, she muttered, turning her head towards the bonfire.

 _‘doesn’t mean I’ll sit with you’,_ she thought

She didn’t so much as glance in his direction as he sat down and poured himself a jug of ale, but she was uncomfortably aware of his presence nonetheless.

“How’s that arm?”.

Fritha turned and threw him a dirty look.

“Hey now, I’m not trying to rile you, girl. It was an honest question”, Vilkas took a swig of ale and met her glare.

“Hmph”, she plucked a grape from a nearby platter.

“It hurts”, she stated flatly.

“Hm, I expected a tough lass like yourself to say something like ‘it’s just a scratch’. Now I feel even more guilty”, he replied, half-jokingly.

“Don’t flatter yourself, I didn’t get this wound from you. But you _should_ feel guilty all the same”, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice as she stared at the fire.

She could see him staring at her from the corner of her eye but couldn’t see his expression. Finally he turned in his seat to face her.

“Look, girl, I’m trying to apologize here. I should not have let things get as far as they did. I sometimes let my anger get the better of me, and-“.

“That’s not an apology”, Fritha interrupted him as she buttered another slice of bread.

“You just need two simple words”, she turned in her chair to face him as well, her arm on the back of the chair and a butter knife pointed at him.

Vilkas looked at her, confused, and Fritha sighed.

“I’m…”, she prompted.

“I’m…?”, Vilkas repeated, looking at her quizzically as she waved the knife and quirked her eyebrow, prodding him to continue.

“I’m……sorry?”, he finished.

“Are you asking me?”, Fritha looked at him, unimpressed.

“I’m sorry girl!”, Vilkas growled, annoyed.

“Such a heartfelt apology. Somebody hold me!”, Fritha clutched a hand over her heart in a faux display of emotion, and turned back to her plate.

“There’s no need to be such a smartass abou-“

“Can’t help it, its part of my charm”, she took a bite of the bread and flashed him a sarcastic smile.

“Kind of like you, and being an asshole”, she added offhandedly.

Vilkas growled. “You’re determined to make this difficult aren’t you?”.

“I feel I’m entitled. You’re the one that drew blood afterall”, she briefly held up her bandaged arm, stained lightly with a spot of dark crimson.”

“Listen, girl-“

“Fritha”, she corrected, picking up the knife and pointing it at him, for no other reason than to emphasize her words. “Every time you call me girl, you sound like you’re spitting in my general direction”.

Vilkas snatched the knife from her fingers, placing it on the table, out of her reach and Fritha frowned at him.

“Fritha”. “I misjudged you. Treated you unfairly. I let things get out of hand and you got hurt because of it. For that, I apologize”.

She stared at him thoughtfully for a moment, studying his face and slowly chewing on her food, before finally swallowing.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”, the trace of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Harder than it needed to be” Vilkas turned back to his plate and took another swig of ale, his expression a little softer.

“So”, Fritha said simply.

“So?”, Vilkas fired back as they both stared at the bonfire.

“So, what did I do to earn your disapproval?”, she asked.

They both sat there, staring at the fire for a few awkward moments. The din of the growing crowd filling the silence between them.

“We’ve had more than a few… _undesirable_ individuals join us in recent months. Only to dirty the name of the Companions by their deeds or their reputation”

“Thieves, imposters, braggarts, murderers. They don’t last long, but by the time we get rid of them, the damage is usually done”.

“To hear about some girl claiming to be a hero from a children’s tale, and to have her request to join the Companions, well, you can see why I would be concerned”.

“I’ll not see the Companions good name sullied further”.

“We also have a fair number of inexperienced whelps that barely know how to hold a sword. So you can again understand my concern”, Vilkas finished.

“I never claimed to be anything”, Fritha casually explained. “I didn’t start those rumors and I have no control over them”.

“Besides, from what I hear, hardly anyone can tie my face to those rumors. And, Farkas told me earlier that the rumors now have the Dragonborn as a burly, seven foot, Nord man”, Fritha smiled.

“Aye, I’ve heard that one”, Vilkas chuckled. “I’d sooner believe that, if I believed in fairy tales. No offence girl”, Vilkas finally looked over at her.

“None taken”, she shook her head and smiled. “I’ve read the tales as well”.

“Did you really fight one of those beasts yourself?”, Vilkas asked after a short while, turning in his chair to face her once more.

Fritha looked at him as she took a sip of mead from her cup. “I wasn’t alone. But I did land the killing blow”.

“So many died before we managed to bring it down”, she added with barely more than a whisper.

“Would you share the story of the battle with me?”.

For just a brief moment Vilkas caught the vacant look in her eyes, as if she were recalling the memory of the battle.

“I’d rather not revisit the memory, not right now. Perhaps another time”.

“Fair enough”, Vilkas said simply and turned to his dinner once more, and a silence settled between them.

The silence wasn’t exactly uncomfortable but still she felt she needed to say something, anything, and he didn’t seem to be bothered by it.

She scanned the crowd absently, Vilkas’ presence next to her and the silence between them nagging her at the back of her mind.

Boisterous laughter, heated arguments and drunken slurs mixed in with the troupe’s instruments, the music now in full swing.

Her gaze settling on Aela once more. Skjor’s hand on her arm and a toothy grin that did not suit his bearing, at least from what little Fritha knew about him. Aela was now faced away from her, but she imagined the woman was smiling all the same.

“Are Aela and Skjor…”, the words left her mouth before she realized it. Such was her desire to fill the lull in their conversation.

“Hm?”, Vilkas looked to her and then to the pair in the darkened corner, beyond the bonfire.

“Are they together?”, he finished her question.

“Mhm”, she tried to appear as casual as possible, while she mentally kicked herself for the slip of her tongue.

“Aye. For a while now. Though they try to hide it”, Vilkas leaned back in his chair and stretched. His fingers interlocked behind his head, and Fritha couldn’t help but be impressed by his well defined arms, his biceps, almost twice as large as her own.

“Gods only know why. It’s not like the two lovebirds are fooling anyone”, he grinned, staring at them beyond the fire.

As if in response, Skjor looked in their direction and Fritha quickly turned back to her dinner. Vilkas on the other hand stared right back at the older man, the shit eating grin still on his face.

“Glad to see you getting along”, Farkas’ voice startling her, and she looked up to the see the man standing behind her with a plate In hand, a mountain of food piled high.

“Is Vilkas playing nice this time?”, Farkas asked as he settled in at her other side.

“Enough, brother. The matter’s been dealt with”, Vilkas replied still looking straight ahead and lounging in his chair.

Farkas grabbed her hand, gently but without warning as she ate and examined her arm. “Did you drink the potion I left on the table?”.

“Ah-Mhm, thank you”, Fritha nodded, smiling nervously as he scrutinized her arm.

“Good”, he relinquished her hand. “Try not to go swingin it around for a few days”.

“Really?”, she looked at the bandaged limb, innocently. “I was thinking of using it to bash Vilkas over the head a few more times. He looks almost adorable when he’s feeling guilty”, she swung her arm down in a hammering motion and she grinned at Vilkas.

Vilkas made a noise, somewhere between a snort and a sigh, and folded his arms. “Drop it, girl. You’ll get no more apologies from me”, a smile almost breaking through his feigned annoyance.

“How did you get that injury in the first place?”, Vilkas inquired.

“Shield broke, sent a splinter right through”, she explained and Vilkas winced.

“Another one?”, Farkas asked, his mouth full.

Fritha nodded, smiling sheepishly.

“This has happened before?”, Vilkas turned in his chair to face them.

“Mmm”, Farkas grunted. “That giant a few weeks back”, he swallowed and jabbed a greasy thumb in her direction.

“Lass used the shield like a battering ram, then backhanded it in the face. Bleedin shield fell apart like stale bread”.

“It was already falling apart”, Fritha mused. “Found it in the jails beneath Helgen. Wood was probably rotted through”.

She sighed. “I really need to stop picking up random equipment”.

“This was during that dragon attack that destroyed Helgen, yes?”, Vilkas asked, receiving a nod of confirmation from her.

“We used a series of tunnels beneath the town to escape the attack”, her eyes taking on the same vacant look as before.

“And the second time?”, Farkas changed the subject, noticing the shift in her demeanour. “Pick another fight with a giant?”.

Fritha chuckled and it sounded forced even to her ears. “Tail swiped by the dragon at the watchtower. Shattered instantly, thought I broke my arm”, she rubbed her bandages thoughtfully.

“I found that one…in a cave…in the mountains near Riverwood”.

”Then I hope you’ve learned your lesson, girl”, Vilkas laughed. “A warrior’s armor and weapon are an extension of themselves. The Companions will provide you with quality gear. Look after it, and it will look after you”.

“Speaking of which, there was a time when we were lads and Farkas got his hands on an old Nordic blade, off of a slain Draugr wo-“

“Just hold on right there, we promised to never speak of that”, Farkas cut in. “She doesn’t need to-“

Vilkas laughed, “I made no such promise, brother “

And so the evening continued into the night. The two men keeping her company as they regaled her with tales of their younger days, of battles and a few rather embarrassing stories of the inner circle members.

* * *

 

_“And the she-witch left him to make the trip back to Rorikstead with nothing but his boots and a dirty rag!-….”_

Fritha blushed, barely able to stifle her laughter behind her hand.

_“…Piss on you Darna, I at least had me pride!...”_

Boisterous laughter filling the air around her. The revelry and camaraderie warming her heart just as much as the roaring bonfire in the centre of the room.

A few recruits and veterans had joined them over the course of the evening upon hearing the two brothers recount their many mis-adventures, delighting in and sharing the tales of their own past exploits.

This felt good, this feeling. Her light headedness from the ale, her aching cheeks from prolonged laughter.

She had met a good deal of the Companions as the evening wore on. Many introducing themselves to their newest member, as they pulled up a chair to share in the revelry.

Even Aela and Skjor had made their way over for a while before retreating back to a more private table. And she would find herself glancing to the pair from time to time, from between the drunken, laughing crowd that had gathered.

She watched Aela get up first, her fingers brushing over the older man’s arm as she stood and headed down to the living quarters beneath the hall. And barely a minute later Skjor himself followed.

A bout of raucous laughter distracting her, and she forced a smile despite missing the story altogether. Taking one last drink of her ale and hiding behind her cup.

“I think that’s it for me tonight”, she set her cup down and smiled politely.

_“Aww c’mon lass, have one more drink. Night’s still young”_

_“Oy!, somebody pour the girl another drink!”_

“No, no”, she laughed. “Thank you, but I think I’m at my limit”.

_“Spent too much time in Cyrodill lass. ‘Ad an old drinkin buddy o’mine live there for a year, came back an went down after only two mugs of Honningbrew.”_

“Lay off her. Girl has had a rough couple of days, she needs her rest”, Vilkas cut in, and she flashed him a thankful look.

“Come girl”, Vilkas rose, motioning to the stairs and he made his way through the crowd as she stood, leaving a path behind for her to follow.

“It was a pleasure meeting you all”, Fritha bowed with a warm smile, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol. “A good night to you”.

 _“Aye, take care girl”,_ a hearty clap on her back as she squeezed her way through the crowd. Nods and murmers of farewells as she passed.

 _“If ye need someone to warm ye bed lass, I’m more than willin”,_ someone called behind her, triggering a bout of drunken laughter, and she rolled her eyes as she escaped the sea of faces.

Vilkas waited for her at the top of the stairs leading down to the living quarters, and she smiled warmly at him as she approached.

“You all right girl, you look a sight unsteady”.

“A little light headed”, she laughed. “But I can still walk straight line”.

As soon as the words left her mouth, she swayed on her feet and Vilkas caught her.

“Whoa there”.

Her forehead resting on his chest for a moment. His distinctly male scent mixed in with wine and mead.

“A _really wide_ , but straight line”, her voice muffled. His chest felt like a solid wall, his hands gripping her arms at the shoulder.

“Really, girl”, he steadied her back on her feet, and she took a deep breath as they parted, trying to blink sobriety back into her head.

“I’ll walk you down”.

“No…no I can…I’m alright” she flashed him a confident smile and he nodded with a frown as she brushed passed.

“Fritha”, he called before she started her descent down the stairs, and she turned, looking at him questioningly. Stray locks tumbling over her warm, heavy lidded eyes and framing her face. And for a moment he wasn’t sure what exactly he wanted to say.

“Are we good?”, he asked finally and she quirked her head, an amused smile on her lips.

“Didn’t we settle this already?”, she looked up at him.

“Aye”, Vilkas nodded, returning her smile and he extended his hand.

“It’s an honor to have you, girl. Welcome to the Companions”.

She shook his hand. ”Thank you”.

“Good night Vilkas”.

* * *

 

 

The halls were quiet and mostly empty, save for a few recruits sat at the tables that lined the darkened corridors. Not content with the bustle of the mead hall, she guessed.

The door to Aela’s room was unlocked, and as she expected, the woman wasn’t there. Fritha turned to the opposite door facing Aela’s room.

It was Skjor’s room. The door most likely locked, and her eyes lingered on it for a moment, listening for signs of...movement. But she couldn’t hear a thing. She sighed and entered Aela’s room, closing the door behind her.

She had expected to stay in the living quarters with the rest of the recruits, but Aela had insisted that she stay with her, and she did not question it.

‘The bed was large enough for two, and she often didn’t use it’, she had said.

Fritha looked around the empty room, suddenly feeling somewhat lonely. She walked over to the bed, taking a seat on the soft furs as she removed her boots and loosened her clothes.

She sat there, alone, her eyes closed and her head bowed, listening to the muffled sounds from the floor above. A sudden sadness welling up in her chest which she quelled as soon as the first tears stung her eyes.

_‘Don’t cry’_

_‘You’ve made it this far…somehow’_

_‘I want to go home’_

_‘Home? Home is gone. Everything is gone…everyone’_

She closed her eyes and straightened, taking a deep breath to clear her head. Her eyes opened, her gaze falling unto her backpack on the nearby table.

 _‘Goodnight’,_ she whispered.

She slipped the strap from her hair and fell back heavily into the bed, an arm over her eyes.

_‘Aela’s scent’._

And for a brief moment she wondered if Skjor’s scent was mingled with Aela’s in the fur covers, and she laughed. Her body shaking with quiet, bitter laughter, even as tears ran down from her covered eyes.

_‘What are you thinking?’_

_‘With everything that’s happened, ‘this’ is what has your attention?’_

_‘The absurdity of it all’._

_‘Father…’._

 

 

 

* * *

 

**Notes:**

Made some minor alterations to the previous two chapters.

Also Fritha is 21, not sure if I've portrayed her well enough. Upon re-reading it, I get the feeling that she's younger, but she's in a fragile state at the moment, so perhaps it fits.

Aela should be around 26 and Vilkas and Farkas should be around 25 in this story, just to give you some perspective.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Aela ran a hand through her hair as she bent to retrieve her discarded clothing from the cold floor.

Skjor lay face down on the tangled fur covers, the candlelight dancing on his broad shoulders and highlighting the many scars that adorned his back.

It was morning. She had awoken a little later than intended.

Finally finished gathering her clothes in her arms, she opened the door, careful not to wake Skjor with the noise of the creaking hinges. She poked her head out into the empty corridor, the relative brightness, hurting her eyes.

Scattered and muffled voices drifted down the halls as the inhabitants of Jorrvaskr awoke with the dawn.

Aela took one final glance behind her, before carefully pulling the door shut and stepping out into the corridor, making sure it was clear. Her clothes in her arms, her boots dangling from her fingertips, and clad only in her underwear, she crossed the corridor and slipped quietly into her room, locking the door behind her.

Fritha lay fast asleep, curled beneath the furs, and Aela set aside the bundle in her arms and approached the bed.

Her long, dark hair, strewn across the pillows and down the side of her face. Her lips, ever so slightly parted, as her shoulders rose and fell to the subtle rhythm of her breathing.

Fritha’s defences were down, her face unguarded, and Aela couldn’t help but smile warmly at the air of innocence the sleeping woman exuded.

She knelt beside the bed, a light touch brushing the hair from the sleeping girl’s face. It was a rare opportunity, and she took a brief moment to simply observe the girl, before pulling the covers over her bare shoulder and her exposed feet.

Fritha hadn’t unpacked her belongings, the backpack and wrapped cloth bundle still lay on the table, and Aela set them aside neatly before deciding to draw herself a bath.

* * *

 

 

Her eyes slowly fluttered open as the veil of sleep lifted from her mind. The gentle sounds of splashing water, tickling her ears.

It was a wholly unexpected sight to awaken to. The fuzzy image of Aela coming into focus as she blinked the sleep from her eyes.

The makeshift curtains of the bath area were not fully drawn, and Fritha watched, unblinking, as the woman washed her arms and shoulders, and sat up in the bath to comb her wet hair.

A perfect commingling of gentle curves and beautifully toned muscles. Her breasts dancing on the water’s surface as she lifted her arms to untangle the knots from her sunset coloured hair.

Fritha drank in every curve and every subtle movement, daring not to stir an inch, lest she alert the woman to her waking state.

Finally satisfied with her hair, Aela leaned back in the bath and relaxed, letting her arms hang over the sides. A quick glance in Fritha’s direction catching the girl off guard, and she hastily shut her eyes, pretending to sleep.

“Good morning, girl. How are you feeling?”, Aela’s gentle voice immediately setting Fritha’s cheeks ablaze, and she pulled the covers over her face, cursing under her breath.

 

“Morning”, came her muffled voice from beneath the furs, a hint of distress, and perhaps a few octaves higher than she intended.

“Are you unwell?”, Aela asked, and Fritha could hear the worry in her voice and the sloshing of water as the woman no doubt made a move stand up.

“I’m fine!”, Fritha quickly assured her, throwing off the covers and sitting up, averting her eyes.

As appealing as the thought seemed, she feared a close up of the morning’s show would wreak havoc on her emotions.

From the corner of her eye, and behind the curtain of her dark hair, Fritha waited until the older woman settled once more into the bath.

“Are you sure?”.

“Mhm”, Fritha uttered a noise of assent as she stood and retrieved the leather strap from the table, tying her hair in a high ponytail, intimately aware of her thundering heartbeat.

Fritha steeled herself, enduring some few minutes of uncomfortable silence as she scrubbed her teeth and washed her face.

“So what are your plans for the day?”, Aela’s voice breaking the silence, and Fritha took a quick glance at the woman over her shoulder as she dried her face.

“I’m going to visit the clothier this morning”, she replied, her back to Aela.

“And later?”, Aela pressed.

“Later?”, Fritha thought a moment. “…Later I was thinking-“.

“Oh, could you pass me that towel, girl?”.

Fritha grabbed the towel from the table and walked it over, and Aela rose from the water as she approached, stepping out of the bath to receive it.

Fritha bit her lip, unsure of where to look, her eyes settling on the far wall until Aela took it from her.

“Later-“, she cleared her throat and continued, turning her back to the older woman and fumbling through her backpack on the table, for nothing in particular, “Later, I was thinking of making a trip to Riverwood. It’s been a while since I’ve visited and-“

“Riverwood?”, Aela cut her off. “Do you know anyone there?”.

“A few people, actually”, the rustle of the towel as Aela dried herself, holding Fritha’s attention.

“Gerdur, runs the lumber mill. Her family put me up for the night after I escaped Helgen”, Fritha explained.

“The jobs I did for the Jarl took me back that way a few times, and-“.

Aela’s hand on her shoulder making her jump.

“I’ve been meaning to do this since yesterday”, Aela began, as she slipped the leather strap from Fritha’s hair, allowing her dark locks to tumble down her back.

“What are you-“

“Turn around”, Aela instructed, and Fritha turned to face her, relieved at least, to see the towel wrapped around her.

Aela was only slightly taller.

Fritha’s amber eyes met her bluish grey, and Aela smiled warmly, leaning closer as the girl bit her lip.

“Aela…?”, Fritha whispered, as the woman’s palm brushed passed her cheek, and she had to fight the urge to lean into it.

 _‘This isn’t happening’_ , the voice in her head screamed, her heart threatening to burst from her chest.

She felt Aela’s fingers in her hair, and her gaze fell to the woman’s lips, just as her own lips parted in anticipation.

The glint of steel startling her, when Aela produced a pair of scissors in her other hand.

“It’s alright. Hold still”, she cooed, snipping a small lock of hair from between her fingers, and Fritha leaned back on the table, the tension draining from her shoulders, a wave of both disappointment and relief, washing over her.

 _‘Of course’_ she closed her eyes, feeling utterly embarrassed as Aela worked, cutting the tips of her singed hair.

There was no way Aela didn’t notice her emotional state, not this time and not this close. But the woman said nothing, and Fritha was thankful for it.

“Turn”, Aela instructed once more and Fritha was glad the woman could no longer see her face.

“Yesterday”, Aela began, as she ran her fingers through Fritha’s hair, snipping as she went.

“A woman came to see you, soon after you arrived”.

“Oh?... Who was it?”, Fritha asked, curious.

“One of the Jarl’s people”, Aela replied, and Fritha scoffed.

“I have nothing to say to the Jarl”, Fritha stated, with an air of finality in her tone.

“You will get no argument from me, girl. But this woman will be back this morning. I think you should at least listen to what she has to say”. Aela turned her around once more and examined her work, primping the girl’s locks, here and there.

“There, that’s better”, she smiled, setting aside the scissors and taking a seat at her bedside dresser.

“Was it the Jarl’s bodyguard?, Fritha asked thoughtfully, leaning back on the table.

“His Housecarl? No”, Aela shook her head. “This was a Nord woman. Her face is unfamiliar”.

Fritha watched in silence, as the woman carefully dabbed a dark powder over her eyelids and painted dark streaks across her cheeks.

“Did she say what time she would be here?”, Fritha asked finally, when she caught herself staring.

“Only that she would return this morning. Though from her demeanour, I would expect her as early as possible”.

_‘What could that man possibly want now?’_

She had made herself perfectly clear when she left Dragonsreach.

_‘Did he finally pick out a jail cell for me?’_

_‘No, if he had a change of heart, the woman he sent wouldn’t have agreed to come back the following day.’_

Fritha bit on her thumbnail as she stared absently at the floor, her brow furrowed, lost in thought.

“Are you worried, girl?”, Aela’s voice shaking her out of her musings, and she looked up to see the woman standing in front of her, with a sympathetic smile.

“I’m not-“

“She just wishes to speak with you, that is all. What you do after that is up to you”, Aela assured her.

“Close your eyes”, she instructed, holding up her stained dark fingertips, an amused smile tugging at her lips.

And Fritha crinkled her nose in a show of faux disapproval as she eyed Aela’s fingertips, but couldn’t hide her playful grin, and did as she was told.

“You are with the Companions now”, Aela’s fingertips brushing lightly around the girl’s eyes and over her eyelids.

“There are limits to what the Jarl can do. Limits to what he is willing to do, even in his own city”.

“You have nothing to fear from-“.

“I’m not afraid of the Jarl, it’s just-”, Fritha interrupted, frowning. Her furrowed brow halting Aela’s work.

“Calm yourself. I’m sorry, it was a poor choice or words”, Aela apologized.

“Just know that you needn’t concern yourself with the Jarl”.

“There”, Aela finished after a while, holding up a small mirror to her face, and Fritha couldn’t help but smile.

She looked up at Aela, with smokey eyes and a silly grin on her face, “I like it”.

“It suits you”, Aela agreed, smiling in satisfaction as she scanned Fritha’s face.

“But…”, Fritha casually reached her hand to Aelas face.

Aela’s bemused expression turning to one of shocked amusement when Fritha swiped her finger over the still damp warpaint and made a dark streak on the woman’s nose.

“Fritha!”, Aela shot her a look of disapproval even as she tried to hide her smile, wiping the paint from her nose with the back of her hand.

“You’re beautiful”, Fritha turned her back to the woman, retrieving a coinpurse from her backpack.

“You shouldn’t hide it behind that warpaint”, Fritha smiled over her shoulder before making for the door.

“Where are you going, girl?”.

“Market district, I’ll be back soon”, she called, shutting the door behind her.

* * *

 

 

The Companions were still dragging themselves out of bed, and she received a few greetings and friendly nods as she navigated the corridors and made her way up to the mead hall.

The scent of food being prepared, drifted through the open door of the kitchen and hung in the air of the empty hall.

* * *

 

 

She pushed open the doors of Jorrvaskr, relishing the blast of sunlight and cool air, at least for a brief moment, before crashing into a heavily armored individual.

Fritha hissed in pain when she brought her injured arm up, and it was sandwiched between her own body and a solid steel chestplate.

A few choice curses escaping her lips as she staggered back, clutching her forearm.

“Apologies miss! Are you alright?”, the startled woman asked, grabbing Fritha by the shoulders and steadying her on the steps.

“Gods! I was!, just a second ago”, Fritha quipped, attempting a smile, even through her pained expression as she raised her head to look at the stranger.

A defined jawline, dark eyes and dark hair that framed her beautifully chiselled, feminine features.

Fritha couldn’t help but blush as she locked eyes with the woman who still held her steady.

“You’re injured?”, she declared, the woman’s gaze falling to her bandaged arm, and Fritha quickly tugged her sleeves over it.

“No- Well yes but- it’s no big deal, really”, Fritha smiled uncomfortably. “Excuse me”, she excused herself and made a move to head down the stairs.

“Wait. Are you with the Companions, miss?”, the armored woman stopped her.

“I am, yes. I joined just yesterday”.

“I wish to speak with Kodlak Whitemane”, the woman informed her. “Do you know if he is in?”.

“The old man? I haven’t seen him since yesterday”, Fritha mused. “But I imagine he should be".

“Go in, have a drink. Most are just waking up, but perhaps one of the Companions can help you”, Fritha suggested.

“I would myself, but I’ve a few errands to run. I’m sorry”, Fritha smiled politely.

“Of course”, the woman nodded. “My apologies again”.

“No, no, it was my fault, really”, Fritha shook her head and skipped down the stairs, spinning around after a few steps to wish the woman a good morning. A silly but satisfied smile on her face as she playfully took the remaining stairs in two’s, before disappearing into the crowd.

* * *

 

 

She watched the young woman skip down the stairs, her high ponytail dancing with every step. Beautiful and in high spirits, and Lydia couldn’t help but smile.

Still, she was unarmed and unarmoured, and in no way did she seem like a mercenary or sellsword.

The inviting smell of freshly baked bread and stew filled the mead hall . The fire burned brightly in the center of the room, but compared to the last time she’d visited, the place was relatively bereft of people, save a few mercs readying themselves for the day, and the sounds of quarrelsome chatter drifting from the kitchens.

Perhaps she came too early, she thought.

“You there, excuse me”, she called to a nearby merc sat at one of the tables. The grizzled man gave her a cursory glance as he downed his tankard of ale, stood as she approached and headed out of Jorrvaskr’s rear doors.

 _Typical_ , Lydia scoffed.

“Can I help you ma’am?”, a young woman approached her, a polite smile on her face.

“Yes, good morning. I’m here to see Kodlak Whitemane. He is expecting me”.

“Kod- The Harbinger?”, the girl corrected herself. “I haven’t seen him yet this morning, but it _is_ pretty early, and most of the Companions are still asleep”.

“Then what of the inner circle, there was a woman, Aela I believe she was called. Is she or any of the circle available?”, Lydia pressed.

“Uh- I…I’m not sure. Are you here about a contract? If so, I’m sure I can-“.

“It’s alright Ria, I’ll handle this”, Farkas’ voice, startling the girl.

“Farkas!”, a hint of relief in Ria’s voice. “This woman wants to-“.

“I heard”, Farkas cut her off. “Somethin I can do for you, lady?”, Farkas asked, folding his arms next to Ria.

“Are you one of the circle?”, Lydia asked, and Farkas grunted in assent.

“I have business with the lady Fritha. I spoke with your ‘Harbinger’ during my previous visit, regarding the details and-“, Lydia paused, her eyes settling over Farkas’ shoulders.

“Fritha isn’t here”, Aela supplied, as she came up behind the two Companions.

“Aela!”, Ria beamed, stepping aside as the huntress approached. “Are we still going hunting this morning? I’m-“

_“Yes girl. I will come find you when it’s time. Go, eat something and ready yourself in the-………”_

Lydia ground her teeth in irritation, but otherwise maintained a perfectly neutral expression, as she watched the two women exchange words.

“What do you want with Fritha?”, Farkas asked, and Lydia turned her attention to him once more.

“I have been sent by Jarl Balgruuf to speak with her regarding several urgent matters. I understand that she is currently-“.

“As I said”, Aela interrupted. “The girl is out at the moment. If you wish to wait here for her, then you are welcome to do so. She should not be long”.

“But she’s on a job isn’t she?”, Ria asked.

“Of course not. Why would you think that?”, Aela narrowed her eyes at the girl.

“W-Well, I saw her grab one of the postings on the board”, Ria motioned to the bounty board nailed to one of the pillars nearby. “But I was helping in the kitchens and she left before I could say hello”.

“Damn that girl!”, Aela hissed, combing her fingers through her hair in frustration.

“She promised she wouldn’t do anything dangerous until her arm is healed-“

“Her arm?”, Lydia cut her off. “Is her left forearm bandaged?”, Lydia tapped her own arm for reference, and Aela quirked an eyebrow at the woman and nodded.

Lydia sighed. “I think I may have met her on the steps just outside”.

“You don’t know what she looks like?”, Aela looked at her incredulously.

“No, I haven’t met her. I was recalled to Whiterun from assignment in the Reach, and arrived just two days ago”, Lydia explained.

 _Was that really her? The one the Jarl believes to be Dragonborn? The subject of all those wild rumors?_ Lydia thought sceptically.

She had expected someone older, meaner looking...

“Which one did she take? Did you see?”, Farkas’ voice interrupting Lydia’s thoughts.

The man was standing in front of the board as his two fellow Companions approached.

“Uh...i-it was at the top, there”, Ria pointed to an empty space at the top corner of the board.

“Hm”, Farkas’ voice rumbling in his chest. “That was a collection job, right here in the city. A local merchant refused to pay after we completed a contract for him”.

“You actually remember that?”, Aela folded her arms and looked at him in mild surprise”.

“Of course. I posted most of these myself”, Farkas replied. “Belethor is his name. Owns a general store in the market district”.

“I know of him. A sleazy little man”, Aela mused.

“Did you hear tha-“, Aela turned to Lydia, but the woman was already headed out the door.

“I’ll find her, thank you”, Lydia called before the heavy doors shut behind her.

* * *

 

 

“My lady”, a guard bowed his head respectfully as she passed and Fritha flashed him a polite smile, sparing him a second glance over her shoulder.

_‘Did he know her? Was he one of the guard at the watchtower?-_

“Oy!, watch yeself girly”, an elderly man grumbled when she bumped into him, as she tried to squeeze through the press of people on her way to the market district.

“Sorry!, sorry. Excuse me”.

The streets were busier than usual. A sea of unfamiliar and unwashed faces. The smell crinkling her nose as she navigated the maze of busy bodies.

“Fritha!”, a high-pitched voice carrying her name through the discordant rumble of the crowd, and a small body barrelled into her leg, almost bowling her over.

“Mila! Bloody hells, child. Where did you come from?”, Fritha steadied herself, looking down at the girl that had latched on to her leg. A toothy grin on the child’s face.

“Where’ve you been!?”, the girl asked, still maintaining a stranglehold on her leg.

“Well, I’ve been busy with a super, super important mission for the Jarl”, Fritha looked down, grinning wryly at the girl, before attempting, and failing to walk with the added weight.

“Mama said you fought a dragon! Is that true?”, Mila looked up at her expectantly.

“Uhuh. A huuuuge scaly monster. Bigger than a mammoth, with teeth bigger than your arm!”, Fritha bent over the girl, playfully baring her teeth and clawing her fingers.

“Grrr. It could spit fire from its mouth and had scales as hard as steel!”.

“Whoa!”, Mila looked up at her in wide eyed awe, tightening her hold on her leg, and Fritha bent down and flicked the girl gently on the nose causing her to release her hold.

“Ow!”, came the Mila’s muffled reply from behind cupped hands and Fritha chuckled, kneeling down and presenting her back to the girl.

“C’mon kid, hop on, let’s go find your mother”, the girl’s offended expression turning to one of utter delight in the span of a heartbeat, as she wrapped her arms around Fritha’s neck and the woman scooped her up and stood.

“Is she working?”, Fritha asked.

“Mhm. There’s _sooo_ many people, but nobody’s buying anything. I got bored and-“.

“Why _is_ it so busy?”, Fritha asked as she shouldered through the crowd.

“Mama said it’s because the Jarl opened the gates yesterday”, Mila explained.

“They’re refugees”, Fritha muttered in realization.

“Fritha look!”, the girl spying a troupe of performers over the sea of heads, where a  group of onlookers had gathered.

Jesters with painted faces and flamboyant garb, danced and engaged in general japery as a handful of musicians sat at the side of the road, playing an energetic tune.

In fact, there were a handful of makeshift and impromptu performances all across the square, this way and that.

Mila’s giggling catching her attention at her back.

“What is it?”.

“Your hair, it tickles!” the girl laughed, and Fritha grinned, shaking her head some more.

“Wha!”, Fritha gasped as the girl tugged at her ponytail, in a fit of giggles.

“N-n-n-n-no, no- Okay, okay I give up girl! Stah-stop! I swear I’ll drop you, you brat!”, Fritha laughed, the girl finally relenting. Her giggles subsiding as they made their way through the market district.

 _“…-the Dragonborn, I saw him near the watchtower when-…”_ They passed a trio of refugees, catching a bit of their conversation as they went. Mila listened intently, her eyes lingering on the group before they disappeared into the crowd.

“Fritha?”.

“Hm?”, Fritha tilted her head slightly to face the girl over her shoulder.

“Is the Dragonborn real? The stories people are telling about him aren’t the same”, the girl explained.

 

“-Fritha?”, Mila prompted when she didn’t immediately reply.

“…I don’t know, kid. People are scared, not just of these winged monsters, but of the war…of uncertainty. They’re desperate for hope, something to cling to”, Fritha paused.

“-Does that make sense?”, she asked, and the girl nodded gravely over her shoulder.

“If legends like dragons are real, who’s to say the Dragonborn isn’t-“, Fritha finished.

“So you’ve never seen him?”, Mila asked, and Fritha chuckled.

“Nope, can’t say I’ve had the pleasure. –Ah, here we are”, Carlotta’s produce stall coming into view.

“Mama!”, Mila called excitedly, next to her ear, and Fritha winced.

“Mila! Gods girl! Where did you run off too?!”, Carlotta cried, wiping her hands on her dress as she hurried over and took her daughter from Fritha, smiling gratefully and mouthing a 'thank you' to her, before walking back to her stall.

“Well I met Lars by the-“.

“No. I don’t want to hear it”, her mother cut her off, hugging her tightly before settling her on a stool behind the stall and kneeling in front of the girl.

“Do. Not. Run off like that, you hear me? Not with all these strange people about-“.

“But mama I was bor-“.

“I swear I have half the guard looking for you. I was worried out of my mind!”, she cupped her daughter’s cheeks and kissed her on the forehead.

“Don’t do that to me again, do you hear me, fairy?”, her voice firm and her eyes heavy with tears. A mixture of emotions on her face.  And her daughter mirrored her expression upon seeing her mother’s face.

“I’m sorry mama”, she whispered, tears rolling down her cheek, and her mother hugged her once more.

Fritha gave them a few moments of privacy, leaning back casually against the stall, her arms taking up as much space as she could to dissuade possible customers, at least for a bit.

“Thank you for bringing her back”, came Carlotta’s voice behind her and she turned to face the woman.

“Don’t worry about it. The kid found me actually”, Fritha smiled and leaned on the counter.

“It’s just, with all these people about-“.

“Mhm, Mila told me the Jarl has lifted the lockdown”, Fritha explained, and Carlotta looked at her questioningly.

“You…didn’t know? Aren’t you still working for the Jarl?”.

Fritha shook her head. “Not anymore, I’ve been out of the loop for a day or two”.

“Oh?”, concern clear on Carlotta’s face. “Did something happen? When I found out you were with the same group at the watchtower, I feared-“.

“I’m fine”, Fritha assured her with a smile. “I’m actually working with the Companions now”.

“The Companions? That’s good, they have a strong reputation in Skyrim”, Carlotta nodded, and smiled welcomingly, as a few persons passed by, eyeing her wares.

“These are all refugees, aren’t they? From the camps outside the city?”, Fritha asked.

“At least”, Carlotta replied. “They come looking for work or food, or shelter”.

“I feel for them, I do. But we’re all struggling as it is”.

“With the war cutting off most trade routes and-“.

“They look desperate” Fritha cut her off, her eyes following the passing refugees.

“They are!”, Carlotta agreed. “There’s been more than a few altercations already, the guard are stretched thin. Desperation brings out the worst in people”, she turned to her daughter beside her. The girl had her head in a book.

“That’s why I don’t want you wandering off where I can’t see you, understand? They are dangerous.”

“Yes mama”, the girl replied, dutifully.

“Well I should get going”, Fritha straightened, grabbing an apple and pushing a stack of coins towards her, and Carlotta opened her mouth to say something.

“I’m sorry”, Fritha cut her off, “but I, lost the cloak you lent me”, she smiled sheepishly.

“Don’t worry about that”, Carlotta waved away her concerns.

“I insist”, Fritha pressed, smiling politely.

“Fritha even so, this is too mu-“, Carlotta tried to push the coins back across the counter, but Fritha stopped her, placing a hand over hers.

Fritha smiled warmly, glancing briefly to Mila, who was deep into her book, before returning her gaze to Carlotta.

The young mother looking thoughtfully to her little girl before turning back to Fritha with a silent nod of understanding and a small, but warm smile.

“Take care”, Fritha smiled as she moved to leave

“You as well, be careful out there”.

 “Fritha! you’re going?”, Mila whined, glancing up from her book.

“Mhm. Got a few errands to run, kid. Don’t give your mother such a hard time”, Fritha called with a wave before disappearing into the crowd.

* * *

 

 

The door to the general goods store squeaked open, briefly letting in the sounds of the rumbling crowd outside.

“Welcome, welcome!”, the man behind the counter greeted, looking up from his conversation with a customer, a scruffy older gentleman sat on one of the chairs opposite.

“If you’re here to do business, come in and have a look at my wares. If you’re with the rabble outside, then turn around. Like I’ve told your friends, I don’t give handouts!”.

“That’s a pretty unique sales pitch. I’m surprised you don’t have more customers”, Fritha quipped, taking a bite of her apple and retrieving a sheet of folded paper from her pocket to glance at it.

“I’m here on business, Mr…. Belethor”, she read off the crumpled note.

“Oh, reall-“.

“You have an outstanding payment due to the Companions for a contract completed on _Fredas, the 22 nd day of Morning Star. _Correct?”

“You!?”, Belethor straightened behind the counter and looked her over. “You’re with the Companions!?”, he scoffed.

“I am”, Fritha nodded with a polite, if forced, smile.

“Granted, I’ve only just-“.

“They’re really scraping the bottom of the barrel aren’t they? Those glorified thugs!”, he cut her off, leaving her looking thoroughly nonplussed.

The customer at the counter swivelling in his stool to get a good look at her.

“Go back to your master, or your boss, or whatever”, Belethor threw up his hands in irritation.

“And tell them…you tell them I want an apology from that son-of-a-whore, if they ever want to see a dime. You hear me?!”, he rounded the counter and stalked towards the stunned woman.

“Now get the hell out!”, he grabbed and yanked her injured arm, eliciting a gasp and a barely supressed whimper from her, causing her to drop the apple and instantly bring her knee up into his groin.

“Bloody hells!” she hissed.

Belethor’s eyes went as wide as saucers. A high pitched wheezing escaping his open mouth as he sank to his knees, and then hit the floor like a sack of potatoes.

“Why is it _always_ the _arm_!”, she growled, cradling her forearm and flexing her fingers tentatively, as she frowned at the man clutching himself at her feet.

“Oy lass! You don’t hit a man in the stones like that. It ain’t right!”, the man at the counter helpfully supplied.

“He’ll be fine”, she stepped over Belethor’s body, rubbing her wrist as she made her way behind the counter and proceeded to rummage through the drawers.

“What are you lookin for down there, girl?”, the customer asked, tearing his eyes away from the merchant, to face her.

“What I came for, -Aha-“, she produced a coinpurse from behind the counter and deposited the contents on the counter top.

“What he owes…”, she added, silently counting and sorting through the coins.

Just then, the door to the shop opened and Fritha looked up to see a familiar face.

* * *

 

 

The groaning man on the floor at her feet, was the first thing that caught Lydia’s attention. She regarded the man with a slight quirk of her eyebrow before stepping over him and heading towards the counter.

“Hello again”, Fritha flashed the woman a smile before once more busying herself with sorting through the coins. “Give me a moment, I just need to-“.

“Are you Fritha?”, Lydia asked, and Fritha lifted her head to look at the woman.

“Yes?”, A subtle narrowing of her eyes as she regarded the stranger. “I don’t think I introduced myself, did I?”, Fritha asked, trying to remember their earlier meeting.

Lydia visibly relaxed at the confirmation. “Ma’am, my name is Lydia, I’ve been-“.

“Um”, Fritha cut her off, nodding to the store owner behind Lydia.

Belethor had finally managed to pick himself up. The man glaring daggers at Fritha as he grabbed a ladle from one of the shelves and made a beeline for her.

* * *

 

 

The doors to the general store flew open and out staggered Belethor, the owner landing on his back on the streets of Whiterun, amidst the startled cries of several onlookers.

“You bitch!” he shouted, sounding rather nasal as he cradled his bleeding nose.

“Guards! Guards!”, he called, as Lydia emerged from inside the shadowed store, and into the light of the streets, to stand over him.

Several nearby guards noticed the commotion, their hands on the hilts of their swords as they approached, but Lydia simply waved them off.

“On your feet”, she demanded, grabbing his tunic and pulling him to his feet. The poor man still calling for the guard as she ushered him back into the store and shut the doors behind them.

“Be silent. I _am_ the guard”, Lydia ordered, shoving him towards the counter.

“Ah, I’ll just be…leavin then”, the sole patron of the shop slid from his stool, edging cautiously past the armored woman, and scrambled out the door.

Fritha, leaned behind the counter, groaning, her face buried in her hands. She looked up as they came back inside.

“What are you _doing_?!”, she demanded in exasperation.

“He had a weapon”, Lydia explained. “I was simply-“

“He had a _ladle_!”, Fritha corrected the woman. “Unless he was planning to serve me poisoned soup, I think I would have been fine!”.

“This man was a threat, and I-”, Lydia began, but Fritha cut her off again.

“There was _no_ threat. I could have handled it myself…”

“…What am I saying…”, Fritha pinched the bridge of her nose In annoyance. “If you’re with the guard, shouldn’t you be questioning _me_?”

“Exactly!”, Belethor managed, hunched over as he was, nursing his bloody nose. “This is _my_ shop! The Jarl will hear of this! I _demand_ you arrest this woman!”

“I said be silent!”, Lydia ordered, cuffing him on the back of the head. “You’ve attacked a Thane of Whiterun. The Jarl’s attention is the last thing you want”.

“Oh, let him go”, Fritha sighed, depositing a stack of coins into her belt pouch. “He was aiming for me, not you”.

“Indeed”, Lydia nodded. “And you are Thane of Whiterun”.

Fritha shot her a quizzical look. “Sorry,what?”.

“I was supposed to meet with you this morning at Jorrvaskr. Your fellow Companions informed me that I might find you here”.

“Oh…”, realization finally dawning on her.

“Wait, how did they even-…Nevermind. I’m done here, can we talk outside?”.

“Hey put my gold back! You saw her take it!”, he demanded turning to face Lydia.

“Relax”, Fritha said, as she passed them and headed for the doors. “I took what was owed, nothing more”.

* * *

 

 

The crowded market had died down some, and she stood in front of the store, in the shade and waited for Lydia.

“I apologize if I overstepped. But I was merely doing my duty”, came Lydia’s voice as the woman came up behind her.

“Terrorizing the local merchants is part of your duty then?”, Fritha stated flatly as she looked out into the market square.

“Ma’am, he was already on the floor when I entered”, Lydia retorted, and Fritha turned, her mouth open and ready with a retort, and closed when she realized the woman probably had a point.

“Hmph”, she huffed, folding her arms and leaning on a nearby post. “So what’s this Thane business about?”.

“For your services to Whiterun, the Jarl has granted you the title of Thane, and has assigned me as your Housecarl”, Lydia explained, and Fritha looked at the woman with cynical incredulity.

A derisive snort and cynical laughter behind her hand, when she realised the woman was serious, and Fritha pushed off the post and walked off.

“Lady Fritha wait!”, Lydia caught up to her and grabbed her arm.

Fritha hissed, letting loose a string of curses under her breath through her clenched teeth, and Lydia remembered her injury.

“I’m so sorry ma’am! I forgot!”, Lydia apologized in shock, instantly releasing her.

“ _GODS_! I _swear_! The next _idiot_ that grabs me there is-“.

“Ma’am please, hear me out”, Lydia pleaded holding up her palms in an attempt to placate the girl.

“Fine, _speak_ ”, Fritha growled, cradling her arm as she stood in the middle of square with her would-be Housecarl. Passers by, giving them a wide berth, after her outburst.

“Are you familiar with the title of Thane, and my duties as your Housecarl?”, Lydia asked.

“Yes I know what it means, and you can tell the Jarl ‘ _No thank you’_. I don’t need a bodyguard and I’m sure you aren’t keen on babysitting duty”.

“Ma’am, it doesn’t work that-“, Lydia began.

“Have the Jarl reassign you”, Fritha cut her off. “Resume your previous duties of terrorizing the local citizenry, I don’t care.”

_“Ma’am if you would just-“._

“I don’t want anything from that man-“, Fritha cut her off again.

_“My lady please, let me-“._

“-And I don’t need someone spying on me and reporting back to-“.

“Quiet!”, Lydia shouted, her outburst momentarily shocking the girl into silence. Fritha instead opting to grind her teeth and glare daggers at the woman through narrowed eyes.

“...Please”, Lydia added with a sigh, and she lowered herself on one knee and bowed her head in front of Fritha.

“I Lydia, do solemnly swear by my oath as-“, She paused and looked up to see the girl disappear into the crowd.

 

“Ah don’t let it get you down, lass”, a burly Nord bystander to her side called. “Persistence is the key. Keep at it, I’m sure she’ll say yes, eventually”. The man’s face was the picture of seriousness, and Lydia hung her head and sighed in annoyance.

* * *

 

“Fritha!”, Lydia finally caught up and stepped in front of her, cutting her off.

“Will you please stop”, Lydia held up her palms, not daring to touch her flighty charge.

“Kneel in front of me in public again and we are done, got it?”, Fritha fixed her with a stern look, and Lydia nodded.

“Very well”, Lydia agreed.

“Uh, Could we?”, Lydia motioned to a secluded alleyway off to the side, and away from the bustle of people. Her hands hovering over Fritha’s upper arm as she ushered the girl towards it.

Fritha leaned on the wall of the alley, folding her arms, her gaze following Lydia wearily as the woman moved to stand in front of her.

“You cannot simply return the title. The order has been given and the guards have been notified”, Lydia explained, while Fritha bit her lip, but otherwise listened in silence.

“The title was given in recognition of your deeds in the service of Whiterun. Nothing further is required of you and it is the highest honor that the Jarl can bestow. There is no reason to refuse it”.

“I won’t have you spying on me and reporti-“.

“That is not my job”, Lydia assured her. “ My duty is to you and you alone. Your identity as the Dragonborn-“.

“I’m not Dragonborn”, Fritha cut her off, annoyance creeping into her face.

“-And that is fine”, Lydia held up her hands, her voice soft and agreeable as she tried to calm the girl.

“-but there were witnesses at the watchtower. Something happened, you can deny it if you wish, but people will talk, your identity will not remain secret forever. And in the event that happens, I am here to ensure your safety from the dangers such a revelation will no doubt bring”.

Fritha sighed and slid down the wall to sit on the cold cobblestones, her face buried in her arms, and Lydia followed her down, stooping in front of her.

“Is something the matter?”, Lydia asked, concern in her voice.

“Why would you agree to this?”, Fritha lifted her head to look at her.

“This?”.

“Being a Housecarl”, Fritha clarified.

“Ah, I did not have a choice in the matter. But I do not regret the position. Being a Housecarl is a great honor”.

“And the pay is quite agreeable as well”, Lydia added with an uncharacteristically playful smile, and Fritha snorted, mirroring her smile.

“So you basically have to do anything I say, yes?”, Fritha smirked.

“Ye-…Within reason”, Lydia caught herself, eyeing the girl suspiciously.

“Careful Housecarl, your devotion seems to be faltering”, Fritha shot her a wicked grin.

“Well”, Lydia stood, her hands on her hips. “You did not let me finish my oath to you, so I think it a reasonable trade off”.

Fritha chuckled, looking up at the woman, “Fair enough”, she held out her hand to her Housecarl and Lydia helped her to her feet.

“I’ll go along with this little arrangement, for now “, Fritha agreed.

“That is acceptable. What do you require of me my Thane?”.

“Fritha”, she corrected. “Do what you wish, but I have a few errands to run. If you’ll excuse me”, Fritha flashed her a quick smile and exited the alley.

“Then I shall accompany you”, Lydia stated as she fell in step with her Thane. “Where are we going?”.

“Clothes shopping”, Fritha stated a matter of factly.

“Ah-, understood”, came Lydia’s awkward reply.

“My Thane”, Lydia began as they walked.

“Fritha”, she corrected her again.

“Fritha. I forgot to mention the house and land that the Jarl has granted you. I have the deed righ-“.

“Of course he has-“, Fritha muttered cynically.

* * *

 

 

Fritha opened the doors to Jorvaskrr and slipped out quietly into the night. The mead hall was as rowdy as ever. The shouting and laughing, falling to a dull murmur when she shut the heavy doors.

Lydia had followed her for a large part of the day, mostly leaving her side when she was in the relative safety and confinement of Jorrvaskr.

They hadn’t yet worked out any sort of system or boundaries regarding this new arrangement that they found themselves in, and how it would work.

She had ‘checked in’ twice. Once at noon and again in the evening.

Even now, the woman was sat awkwardly in the mead hall, while Ria distracted her with a barrage of questions at Fritha’s behest.

_‘I’ll have to remember to make it up to her somehow’_

She was more than a little tipsy as she descended the steps of Jorrvaskr. The cool night air helping her condition, if only a little.

 

Couples huddled close on the benches around the Gildergreen, torchlight dancing on their shadowed faces. Drunkards and vagabonds slumped along the sides of the walkways, their hands held out as she passed by.

There were scant few people still walking the streets at this hour. The refugees and workers that crowded the city during the day, had since retired to their camps on the outskirts of the city, she imagined.

The rest, at home or flooding the taverns.

She was lucky. She could easily have found herself among their number, camped outside, had things been just a little different.

_‘Aela…’_

 

Her aimless wanderings eventually found her standing outside the modest dwelling that was apparently now her own.

She had visited the place during the day with Lydia. It was cosy, _warm, homely._ What else could she say?

It was a house, but she couldn’t bring herself to accept such a bribe from the Jarl. And that is what it was.

Aela had called it an attempt to curry her favour.

Whatever her _‘favour’_ was worth.

In the end, she bade Lydia to hold on to it. She had a place in Jorrvaskr, and Aela had insisted she stay when she showed her the deed.

She was happy there so far, and would stay so long as she was welcome.

* * *

 

 

Fritha sighed, moving past the house to lean on a nearby fence.

A cloudy night sky. A few persistent stars peeking through the haze.

She felt dizzy as she watched the slow crawl of dark clouds across the night sky, and she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

_‘Really need to cut back on the ale’_

The chirping of crickets, the muted crackle of fire from the braziers that dotted the city streets.

The sound of relaxed footsteps on the cobblestone walkway catching her attention, and she opened her eyes.

 

“Ah, such a tragedy. The stars weep. Their celestial brilliance marred by jealous clouds”. A Nord man, tall and lean.

His clothing rather exquisite, or at least it was, once upon a time. The colours faded and muted, the fabric wearing thin at the seams.

Fritha watched quizzically as he approached, his arms casually behind his back, his face pointed skyward with an expression of mock sadness.

“Ah but what’s this?”, he clasped his hand and turned to face her, amusement and faux surprise on his face. “Who needs the stars, when I am graced with such a heavenly beauty right before my eyes”.

 

 _‘The night really brings out the weirdos’_ , Fritha thought in amusement, as she snickered behind her hand.

“That such heavenly beauty be plucked from her earthly prison, to dance on the strings of impertinent godlings”, Fritha recited playfully, with a lazy grin as she leaned back on the fence.

 

“Ah, May her brilliance blind the unworthy and caress the faces of those yet bound to this earthly plane”, the man finished with a flourish and a deep bow.

“You are well read my lady,” he smiled, lifting his head and standing before her. A gentle gust of cool night winds, fluttering his short, dark overcoat, and dancing a few stray locks of her messy hair over her face.

“Allow me to introduce myself. **Dormian Malthius** ”, amusement colouring his voice.

“May I have your name, my raven haired beauty?”, he asked, one hand over his heart, and the other he offered to her.

“And what would you do with my name, I wonder”, she smiled, but didn’t take his hand

“Why, I would pen the most wondrous of poems, the most moving ballads, and scatter the legends of your radiance across Tamriel”, he assured her with all seriousness and she couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Well, Dormian, I’d be the luckiest girl in the world if that did it for me. But I’m afraid you’re barking up the wrong tree”

“Ah I don’t believe that, grant me the opportunity and I’m sure you would change your tune”, he took a step closer, his eyes flickering for the briefest of moments, to her injured arm.

Fritha smiled and shook her head. “Sorry, but this ‘radiant beauty’ should be getting to bed”.

“It was nice meeting you, goodnight”, she nodded, pushing herself off the fence and moving past him.

“Are you certain I can’t change your mind?”.

“Quite”, Fritha replied as she walked away. “Bit of advice, tiger. Tone down your approach, just a bit next time”, she added, over her shoulder with a backhanded wave.

The sound of fluttering fabric, accompanied the blur of movement in the corner of her vision. And with one blink of her eye, the stranger stood before her, blocking her way.

Fritha stopped dead in her tracks. A quick glance behind her confirming that it was indeed the same man.

 

“Ah, such a pity. This could have been so much easier”, he said.

“How did you-“, Fritha took one cautious step back.

“Do you have any idea how deliciously exquisite you smell, my dear”, Dormian’s lips parted with a wide grin, and she could see for the first time, his elongated teeth.

“Your blood lingers on the winds, leaving a trail across the city”, his eyes falling to her bandaged arm.

 _“Vampire…”_ , Fritha whispered, her mind clearing as realization dawned on her face, and his grin widened even more as her heartbeat quickened.

_‘Gods…’._

 

* * *

 

Said to appear where there were large gatherings of people, they walked amongst the citizenry of densely populated cities, prowling small villages and the aftermath of bloody war.

She’d seen only one of these creatures in her lifetime. As a little girl during a visit to Bruma with her father.

Seven…it had taken seven of the guard to surround and finally bring one of these things down.

* * *

 

 

Fritha took another step back. She was unarmed, and her head still swam from too much drink. This was the worst possible situation she could find herself in.

This man…this Vampire, blocked her route to the city proper.

Far behind her, beyond the darkened streets and looming buildings, stood the gates of Whiterun. If she could make it to the gates, there had to be several of the guard on duty.

Could she even outrun him?

_‘No you can’t’_

She could have screamed for help. But even in this situation, her pride wouldn’t let her.

_‘What good would it do?’_

From what she’d read of these creatures, she’d be dead long before anyone could get to her.

“Scream if you wish, but you will die that much quicker for it”, he spoke almost casually as if sensing her thoughts.

“I’d much rather revel in the sound of your beating heart as I gorge myself on the sweet nectar that flows through your veins”.

“Though it would be a shame to destroy such beauty”, he held out a hand to her. “Perhaps I will keep you as a thrall, you can be both my food and my ‘ _entertainment_ ’”, he chuckled, a dark smile splitting his face.

Fritha clenched her fist, trying to clear her head and calm her nerves.

_‘Think’._

 

“Be a good lamb……..-”, Dormian’s eyes suddenly glowed like red embers behind his messy hair. His grotesque grin twisting his features and causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end.

 

That sudden feeling of dread. It was the dragon clawing its way up the watchtower all over again.

 

“…….and don’t struggle…too much”.

 

His sudden step forward triggering her immediate and instinctual response. She turned on her heel and dashed towards the direction of the gates.

 

Three steps…

Three steps was all she managed before she felt the cold spindly fingers around her neck.

Three steps before the ground retreated from beneath her feet and she was slammed hard into the wall of her empty house.

 

She could barely breathe as he held her aloft by her neck, at least a foot off the ground. Her back against the front wall of the house.

She clawed at his wrist in panic, ragged gasps escaping her lips while her feet frantically searched for support against the flat surface of the wall.

 

‘This wasn’t real. This was a dream. She’d passed out from too much drink in Jorrvaskr’s mead hall’, she thought, her mind racing as her lungs screamed for air.

His skin, tough and leathery under her fingernails. His fingers unyielding around her throat.

_‘Not like this…’_

 

“Beautiful”, his face a mixture of childlike wonderment and psychotic glee as he looked up at her.

“This dance, this struggle. I never tire of it”, he laughed.

His fingers eased up around her neck ever so slightly, as he let her slide down the wall until her toes touched the ground.

“Look at me”, he ordered , twisting her neck so she could look him in the eye, but she squeezed her eyes shut in an act of defiance.

“I said look at me!”, he growled, slamming her against the wall. A pained whimper escaping her lips despite his fingers around her throat. But still she kept her eyes shut.

His fingers loosened around her throat some more, allowing her a desperate gasp of air.

She could feel his other hand trailing down her chest from her collarbone and coming to rest between her breasts.

A single finger pushing against her chest. Tremendous pressure focussed on a single point, threatening to crush her chest.

It was utterly unbearable, and she screamed out in anguish before his fingers closed around her throat once more, silencing her cries.

“Look At Me!”, he stressed the words once more, and reluctantly she opened her eyes, glaring at him in defiant anger and frustration.

“Be still”.

_Red embers amidst a sea of darkness…_

_An infinite, all encompassing sea of darkness…_

_Smothering her…_

Her mind, a haze of indifference, as her frantic clawing against his wrist ceased, and her arms fell to her sides.

His fingers left her throat.

Her mind lingered somewhere between dream and consciousness.

“Perfect”, he hissed, brushing his thumb over her cheek, as her vacant, amber eyes stared back at him.

 

Somewhere, in the infinite darkness, she could hear herself screaming. And a fractured voice that was not her own, reverberating through her mind, growing louder as it shook her dark world.

 _‘…sin..ahvon…koraa-…miin’_ , fractured words rapidly becoming clearer with each passing moment.

 

“So much more agreeable”, he lifted her arm, running a fingernail down the cloth wrappings, cutting through them as he went.

Her vacant eyes lingered on his face as he worked to remove the bindings.

“I told you I would change your tune, my dear”, Dormian grinned, holding her wrist and inhaling deeply the scent of her blood. His other hand snaking under her tunic, over her hips and the bare skin of her waist.

“It is time we get better aquainted”.

A euphoric high as he indulged in her scent, his eyes rolling back and his toothy grin widening.

“ _Sahh_ …”, her lips parted, her voice barely a whisper, and his eyes shot open and snapped to her face.

“You can speak…?”, he narrowed his eyes at her and she stared back at him impassively.

“ _Sahlag sivaas…-sind…uga…hvon fen…”_

“How?! What language is that? Are you spouting nonsense?”, his fingers tightening around her wrist.

“Have I completely shattered your mind, little lamb?”.

 _“Naal…Stahdim uth….fustir…vulom…-“,_ her voice growing stronger.

“Be silent!”, he growled.

**_“Bex. Hin. Miin!”_ **

**_“Briimulkah!_ **

“What is this?!”, he demanded, his brow furrowed in frustrated confusion.

 ** _“Vopraan!”,_** A sudden gasp as she swallowed a deep, hungry breath, her eyes widening with renewed awareness and cognizance.

 

The darkness scattered, and once more she was aware of the cold air on her face, the fingers under her tunic, the musty smell of the man in front of her, and the searing pain in her arm.

 

“You can’t do that!”, Dormian gasped, his eyes wide in shock and disbelief.

His voice igniting her rage as she levelled a deathly glare at him. Her teeth bared in a twisted scowl of contempt, and her hand shot to his throat, her fingers squeezing his leathery neck.

She let out a feral roar as she pulled him close and slammed her forehead, with vicious abandon, into his face.

The sickening crunch was immensely satisfying to her ear. He released her as he staggered back, blood gushing from his broken and grotesquely twisted nose.

Fritha clenched her fist as she fixed her eyes on him. This creature was the only thing that existed in her world at that moment.

Her fear forgotten.

It didn’t matter what he was. She would destroy him, or die trying!

 

Dormian raised his head to face her as he regained his balance.

“You Bit-“, his words immediately cut short as a shield wielding figure barrelled into him from the side, knocking him cleanly off his feet and sending him sprawling across the street.

“Lydia!”, she choked, immense relief washing over her, the tension evaporating from her body as her knees buckled and she slumped down against the wall.

“Fritha!”, Lydia rushed to her, setting aside her shield as she knelt over the girl.

She felt suddenly exhausted, tears in her eyes as she grit her teeth against the torrent of emotions swirling around her chest.

The hopelessness of inevitable death replaced by the light of salvation.

It was almost too much to bear.

 

“Are you hurt!?”, Lydia’s frantic voice, fraught with worry. Her palm on the girl’s damp cheek as she scanned her body for signs of injury.

“I’m alright…just…dizzy”, Fritha gently brushed her hand away. “That was an impressive tackle” she joked, wiping the wetness from her cheeks. But Lydia didn’t share her levity, instead frowning at her charge, gravely.

An angry groan catching their attention and they turned to see her tormentor stirring from his prone position in the middle of the street.

“Fritha, we have to discuss this later”, Lydia informed her before attempting to stand, but Fritha grabbed her shoulder.

“Be careful”, Fritha looked to the man as he pushed himself to his knees. “It’s a Vampire”.

“Vampire?”, Lydia narrowed her eyes at the creature.” Very well”, she said simply.

“Hold on to this”, Lydia handed Fritha her shield and stood, unsheathing her sword and stepping out into the street to face the creature as he pushed himself to his feet.

 

“I will bleed you slowly” he sputtered through his bloody nose. “And skin your wretched carcass in front of that one!”, he motioned towards Fritha as she pushed herself to her feet, the familiar feel of a shield in her hands.

“Cease your posturing”, Lydia pointed her sword towards the creature. “Attack or flee. Make your decision!”.

 

He spat, dark blood staining the grey cobblestones.

“As you say”, he growled.

 

And in a blur he dashed forward, appearing at her side. Her eyes wide in momentary surprise at his unnatural speed, and she reflexively slashed at his neck.

Her sword completely missing its mark as he ducked under the swing and closed in on her, reaching for her throat.

Lydia managed to just bring her arm up in time, and his fingers closed around her steel bracers. Using the momentary distraction she thrust her sword towards his chest. The shock, clear on her face, when he grabbed the sword by the blade, mere inches from his chest.

Blood trickling down his fingers and staining her sword as he grinned bitterly at her. Her sword felt as if it were embedded in stone, such was the strength of his grip.

He wasted no more time, batting away her other arm and leaving her wide open.

A crimson ethereal glow emanating from his fist when he brought his hand up towards her face. Tendrils of hungry, red light, blinding her and sapping her strength.

“Gah!”, Lydia cried out.

“No!”, Fritha cried out as she dashed towards him ,shield in hand.

He closed his fist, cutting off the dark energy and slamming his palm into Lydia’s armored chest, knocking her off her feet and sending her several paces back.

He turned toward Fritha just in time to grab the edge of the shield, as she brought it down towards his head. She had accounted for that, and immediately she smashed her boot into his knee while his vision was obscured.

 

She felt the tell-tale crack under her boot, but he seemed completely unfazed.

He forced her shield down and grabbed her by the throat, lifting her off her feet while she clawed weakly at his wrist with her injured arm.

She wasn’t done. Using the rock solid grip he held on her shield as support to ease the pressure on her neck, she brought her foot up and kicked him in the ribs with a meaty thud and an audible crack.

“Bitch!”, he growled, violently tossing her backwards, and sending her crashing through the wooden fences, where she lay unmoving.

“Rrrraghh!”, Lydia roared, her thundering footsteps resounding as she charged at him, and his head snapped to her just as she brought her sword down.

 

Again he caught her blade. The steel cutting into the leathery flesh of his palms. But Lydia was unfazed this time and brought her foot up to stomp him in the chest, sending him staggering back.

Her blood-slick hilt slipped from her grasp as he maintained his grip on her blade when he staggered back, but Lydia didn’t give him a moment’s pause. Instead closing in on him and capitalizing on the opening.

His injured knee slowing him down just enough for her to get into his personal space and land a solid right hook to his temple.

 

She let loose a mighty roar as her fist made contact, and sent him staggering back further, before he fell onto his back and sent her sword skittering away into the shadows.

“Fritha!”, Lydia called to the girl’s motionless body.

“Fri-“.

“I’ve changed my mind”, Dormian was on his feet once more. His glowing palm over his injured knee, and Lydia could hear an audible _‘pop’_ as cartilage and bone slipped back into place.

“I will kill you quickly”, he spat.

“An abrupt and unspectac-“.

The howling of a sword on the wind as it hurled past her shoulder and embedded itself in the Vampire’s chest, just missing his heart. The force knocking him off is feet once more, and cutting short his tirade.

Lydia spun around in surprise to see a somewhat familiar face.

“Go, take her!”, Vilkas motioned to Fritha’s unconscious body.

Lydia needed no further prodding and she rushed to the girl’s side, kneeling and lifting the shield off of her.

“Fritha”, she whispered tapping the girl gently on the cheeks. “Fritha, wake up!”.

But the girl did not stir.

“All these interruptions!”, the Vampire arose, the sword still embedded in his chest.

“Rats crawling out of their holes”, he turned to face the unarmed Vilkas.

Lydia could hear the sickening squelching sound as he withdrew the sword from his own chest.  
“What are you going to do now, hero”, he asked Vilkas as he lifted the sword and glanced toward Lydia.

“No!”, Vilkas shouted upon realizing what the creature intended to do.

But Lydia saw it as well, and scrambled for the shield, bringing it up just as he threw the blade.

 

The sword pierced the shield as she covered herself and Fritha both. The blood stained steel missing her head by a hair’s breath.

The Vampire growled in frustration. He hadn’t expected that, and took a step towards the two women.

One step was all he managed.

Dormian shuddered as a dagger flew out of the shadows and planted itself squarely in his hamstring.

Lydia looked up to see Aela emerge from the shadowed streets, in the direction of Whiterun’s gates.

A bow on her back and a single arrow in her quiver.

The Huntress’ gaze falling to the unconscious Fritha as Lydia knelt over the girl.

And then to the creature in front of her.

Her fingers slowly clenching into fists. The corners of her mouth upturned into an almost feral snarl as a low, guttural growl escaped her clenched teeth.

“Another one?”, he laughed bitterly as he ripped the dagger from his thigh and hurled it at Aela.

A quick backhanded swipe knocking the blade skyward, and a few seconds later, far away in the darkness, the sound of clattering steel as the dagger hit the ground.

Aela didn’t break eye contact with the creature for a second. Her deathly glare focussed on nothing but her prey.

“Take her to Jorrvaskr!”, Aela ordered, not sparing Lydia a second look.

“He’s a Vam-“, Lydia began.

“We know”, Aela cut her off. “Go!”.

Lydia eyed the woman warily, sparing the Vampire one final glance before scooping Fritha up in her arms and backing away as Vilkas moved to stand between them.

Dormian turned to keep them both in his sight as Vilkas and Aela stood motionless listening to the retreating footsteps.

 

 

“This is fine!”, Dormian growled. “You will do for now”.

“Fritha… I will find her again later”, he grinned.

 

A heavy growl rising in Aela’s throat, her rage growing when Fritha’s name left his lips.

The fine hairs on her arms stood on end. Her fingernails itched for release. And she could feel her teeth scraping the inside of her mouth.

 

 _“Careful. There can still be eyes on us”,_ Vilkas spoke quietly.

“Who are you talking to”, Dormian narrowed his eyes at Vilkas.

 _“Where are you now?”,_ Vilkas muttered again.

“Have you lost your mind, mortal?”, Dormian questioned.

 _“Where is she?”,_ Aela asked and Dormian’s head snapped to her in confusion.

 _“Good”,_ she muttered, her eyes still fixed on the vampire.

 _“No, come to us…yes the North”,_ came Vilkas’s voice once more.

 

Dormian’s frustration hitting a tipping point, and he spun to face Vilkas.

A blast of crimson light blinding the Companion, and in an instant, Dormian was at his side, a swipe of his fingers aimed at the Companion’s throat.

“You should have run”, Vilkas growled as he caught the vampires hand before it got anywhere near his neck.

 

Dormian’s eyes went wide in utter shock at the realization, but he didn’t have time for anything else.

Vilkas clenched his fist, crushing and grinding the bones of Dormian’s hand between his fingers.

A modicum of pain flashing across the vampire’s face before Vilkas yanked his arm, pulling him off his feet and sending him skidding to the ground between the two Companions once more.

 

Dormian scrambled to his feet and spun around in Aela’s direction in an attempt to flee.

Once more he raised his hand, crimson light emanating from between his fingers, but Aela’s hand shot out and grabbed him by the wrist, twisting sharply.

The bones in his wrist snapped, protruding from his skin.

His mouth hung open in a silent scream as he locked eyes with her. The fear in his eyes, followed the realization that he was not dealing with normal humans.

 

She pulled him close by his wrist, and with unnatural speed, swiped her fingers at his head, leaving streaks of deep gouges up his neck and across the side of his face.

 

She held up her fingers as he staggered backwards in shock. Chunks of flesh and dark blood dripping from black, elongated claws. A quick swipe of her hand to the side, splattering the bloody mess on the cobblestones.

 

“Wh-Wha…What are you people!”, he shrieked, clutching his neck, and Aela snarled in bitter disgust as Vilkas closed in on him from behind. Her elongated incisors illuminated by the pale moonlight.

 

“Are there more of you in Whiterun?”, Vilkas questioned, and Dormian spun around to face him, panic in the vampire’s eyes.

 

Two monsters at his front and back, and a wall to one side. There was only one option available to him.

 

With a sudden burst of speed he ran north towards a narrow and darkened staircase that led up to the Wind District.

 

Aela and Vilkas watched as he scrambled up the steep stairs.

 

“Farkas”, Aela whispered.

 

A sudden gasp and a grunt of pain from the top of the stairs, and Dormian’s body burst from the shadows.

The steps rushed past, several meters below him as he was thrown from the top of the staircase, and he hit the ground hard, landing once more between the two Companions.

 

They looked down at him, his face contorted in agony as he struggled to stand.

 

“How many more of you are there in Whiterun?”, Vilkas repeated his question.

“H-Hells take you!”, Dormian coughed and sputtered on his knees.

 

“Don’t waste your breath”, Aela growled.

 

The sound of steel scraping on stone catching their attention, and they looked towards the stairs as Farkas emerged from the shadows and hefted his greatsword over one shoulder.

“Here brother”, Farkas called, and threw the heavy weapon to Vilkas, who caught it deftly by the hilt.

Dormian’s eyes going wide at the glint of steel, and he bolted to his feet, taking one final desperate swing at Aela in a vain attempt to secure an escape.

 

Again Aela caught his arm and stomped him in the back of the knee, forcing him to kneel.

In one smooth motion she grabbed the bow from her back, and slipped it under his neck.

With her knee jammed into his back, she pushed him forward, simultaneously strangling him and presenting his head to Vilkas.

 

“M…Mons..ters!”, Dormian choked as he clawed feebly at Aela’s arms.

 

“We aren’t the ones preying on the innocent”, Vilkas corrected him. “The only monster here is you”.

 

“Get it over with. The Guard have been alerted. I can hear them”, Aela advised.

 

Vilkas raised the sword.

 

“No, w-!“.

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Notes :

Apologies for the late chapter. Been a busy two weeks^^

Intended this chapter to be longer, but I figure I can add the rest at the start of the next chapter.

I picture Whiterun as a larger and more complex city than the one featured in the game. So the scale and location of certain points of interest may seem a bit different.

 

 

Translation for a few of the Dragon tongue used. May not be completely accurate. Feel free to correct me.

_**sahlag sivaas : Pathetic creature** _

**Sindugahvon Fen : Unyielding Will**

_**naal stahdim uth : By Divine Order** _

_**bex hin miin : Open your eyes** _

_**vopraan : Awaken** _


End file.
